


ENCORE!

by Ringshadow



Series: Metal and Anarchy in the USA [2]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Avengers as a metal album, Bucky rehabs kittens and puppies, Clark Gregg loves Iron Fist, Darth Maul's double ended dildo, F/M, Gay Victorian Goth Fairy wedding, Have I mentioned I type this on my phone while on break at work and don't edit at all, I don't even know anymore guys, I don't know how to write Barney, Jasper Sitwell suppotive friend, John Garrett is a mad scientist experiment, John Garrett professional asshole friend, M/M, Multi, New Orleans man, Nick Fury is a pretty princess, Nick Fury the wedding planner, Not so much fairies as random winged monsters and a few things we are not sure about, Sam rehabs raptors and vets, Steve rehabs Sam and Bucky, eventually anyway, fairy wings, why do you people like this so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-03-22 19:11:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 23,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3740338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ringshadow/pseuds/Ringshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Phil sings in a metal band, has a record deal and is engaged to Clint Barton. Oh, and a pop singer hates his guts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclosure here:
> 
> I have no idea why Subvert got a following of readers. It was a fanfic I wrote in a notes program on my cell phone, during dead time at work. It was easy and funny and frankly I listen to a lot of metal music so it was low-effort for thought. Off the cuff and made me smile as I wrote it.
> 
> I cut Subvert off because frankly as amusing as it was it was directionless, and I didn't want it overstaying its welcome.
> 
> Then I got slammed with reviews requesting a continuation. Like, a stunning amount of requests. So.
> 
> Consider Encore! to be sort of story, and a sort of collection of snippets as they come to me. Because these fuckers are still goddamn hilarious in their weird way. I offer no promises as to eventual plot resolution but I'll do what I can to motivate them in that general direction.

Author's note: Post-threesome shenanigans ahead!

* * *

 

Her name was Skye, apparently. In this age of ridiculous naming conventions Phil didn't question it. Besides he was a Phillip engaged to a Clinton Francis.

  
  
It was three in the morning and Skye was wearing her underwear and one of his dress shirts, sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island with a mug of coffee watching he and Clint cook. Mostly-naked early breakfasts (or late dinners? Little sleeping had been done so far) being one of Phil's favorite meals. Phil was in sweat shorts; Clint was in boxers and an apron.

  
  
"I'm getting the idea this isn't a normal thing for you guys." Skye said, watching them.

  
  
"Mostly naked breakfasts? Depends if Clint's working." Phil replied, loading fresh made shredded hash browns into a skillet.

  
  
"Pretty common after a show." Clint agreed, whisking eggs in a bowl. "Onion and bell pepper?"

  
"On it." Phil agreed, getting a bell pepper out of the fridge.

  
  
"I can chop those up." She slid off the stool and came around, taking a chef's knife out of the block and accepting the onion and bell pepper from him. "And I meant the threesome thing, not the cooking thing, but the cooking thing is awesome."

  
  
"Ah. No it isn't. Pretty sure this is Clint letting me have a last hurrah."

  
  
"Accurate." Clint agreed, jockeying the stove and turning on the vent fan before setting a griddle across two burners, turning them on. "Though it wasn't exactly a hardship."

  
  
Skye was amused by this, easily taking apart the bell pepper then working on the onion. "Well I'd hope it wasn't. Last hurrah huh?"

  
  
"We're engaged. Decided to go with tattoos instead of rings." Phil held up the arm with the accipiter tattoo. "No regrets, but I am bi and I do like pussy and it had been a while."

  
  
"Um, yeah, I uh, I could tell." She blushed a little. "How small do you want this chopped up?"

  
  
"That's small enough." Clint said, looking at her progress as he laid some bacon out on one side of the griddle. "Bacon loaded scrambled eggs and hash browns."

  
  
"We'll sleep like the dead." Phil hummed and checked the hash browns before cutting it into three sections and flipping them. "So I gave you two passes..."

  
  
"Thanks for that, it was a great show."

  
  
"And after show." Clint smirked, accepting the cutting board loaded with vegetables and pouring them on the griddle, the smell of cooking onion in bacon grease filling the air.

  
  
"I'm just surprised you didn't bring tall dark and somber."

  
  
"Grant. His name's Grant. I tried, he didn't want to go." She huffed, washing the cutting board and knife. "He's not exactly my boyfriend if that's what you mean. I like him a lot but I have to teach him to have fun."

  
  
"Ah one of those. What's his major?"

  
  
"Law enforcement."

  
  
"Why did I know that?" Phil murmured.

  
  
"Because you still try to read people like you did on the job and you're still good at it." Clint replied.

  
  
"Oh, what do you think my major is? I don't think I said." Skye set the cutting board on the drying rack and towel dried the knife.

  
  
"Computers or something close related." Phil got plates down. He'd mixed his and Clint's dishes together so he ended up with two dark purple plates and a black and red one.

  
  
"Wow. Yes." She gaped at him.

  
  
"You have the dot codes from I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream tattooed on your back." He gestured at her with the spatula. "That speaks of a special level of geek. Computers or engineering, or on the flip side, artist. I went with majority odds."

  
  
She stared at him, looked at Clint (who lifted an eyebrow), then looked back. "You kind of scare me."

  
  
Clint laughed and poured the egg over the onions and bell pepper. "That is the proper response."

* * *

  
  
When Phil woke again, sunlight was pouring through the windows and Clint was sprawled partly on top of him, still fast asleep. He smiled and turned his head to rest his cheek on Clint's hair, content, and listened to the shower run. Skye hadn't left yet, then.

  
  
He lifted a hand and stroked his fingers through Clint's short hair, smiling when Clint shifted and stretched against him with a grunt. "Good morning."

  
  
"Mmrngh." Clint agreed, eyes not yet open.

  
  
"Skye is in the shower. We slept in."

  
  
"K."

  
  
"You're too good to me." That got him pinched (bicep because that's where Clint's hand happened to be). "Hey. Ow."

  
  
"Stoppit. I'm just good enough to you."

  
  
He was willing to concede that point.

  
  
"You should go join her in the shower."

  
  
"Without you? Feels like cheating." Phil grumbled, though his cock was interested in the concept.

  
  
Clint pinched him again. "Go. I'm going to start some coffee and check our internet stuff."

  
  
"Oh, fine, if I must." He shifted out from under Clint and stretched before rolling off the bed.

  
  
"Oh please like it's really a chore for you Mr. Oral Obsession."

  
  
"You love it."

  
  
"I have a fiancé whose second favorite thing is being on his knees, what do I have to complain about?"

* * *

  
  
It was past noon when Skye left, kissing them both as a farewell and waving off the offer of cab fare with a smile. Phil smiled after her then joined Clint at his computer, hugging him from behind. "Anything good?"

  
  
"Terrestrial radio has started playing a censored version of $erene." Clint replied, his laptop on one of the kitchen counters, a fresh coffee at hand. "Apparently with all the news about cops lately, it's resonating a bit."

  
  
"That should help our name get out there." Phil hummed, nosing against Clint's neck. He still hadn't showered so he smelled like food and sweat and sex, and it made Phil hum in approval. "Even if I wasn't big on the censoring thing."

  
  
"Can't blame you. Well I suppose I can since you wrote it." He smiled and leaned into the attention. "This is why I wasn't worried about having a threesome by the way."

  
  
"I'm yours."

  
  
Clint smirked, scrolling a long list of new emails then blinking when a new one arrived from Tony. "Sassy went on a morning show today."

  
  
"Good for her." Phil wasn't looking at his screen anymore, face buried into Clint's shoulder and neck.

  
  
"She talked about us." There's a link and he followed it, leaning back into Phil's hold as the video loaded.

  
  
Morning shows were almost entirely vacuous in Phil's opinion, useless fluff to fill the morning hours and not worthy of watching (hell he'd always put on cartoons or Sesame Street when he had watched TV before work). This is not an exception, the typical blonde generically pretty female host and a generic dude in a suit cohosting. Sasza, for once, wasn't dressed up like a time traveling raver from the nineties; someone had put her in a blouse and skirt.

  
  
"She needs better taste in shoes." Phil wrinkled his nose at the screen.

  
  
"I had not even noticed." Clint laughed.

  
  
The two hosts and Sasza talked about how she came into the music industry (a story lacking her blowing Justin Hammer, Phil noted) and her album and the next one she has planned and that her 'like, favorite thing ever' was Hunger Games. Then the male host brought up Subvert.

  
  
"You've posted a few videos straight up dissing these guys so I looked into it. For the viewers that don't know, Subvert is a metal band led by an ex-FBI agent." As the man spoke photos came up on a display, a group photo of the band then various others, concert and promo photography. Naturally they managed to find photos of Phil being as age appropriate as he wasn't including a concert photo that showed off the tongue piercing. "They have a few sleeper hits and their album's been out maybe six weeks, so why do you hate these guys?"

  
  
"Oh ugh gawd. The lead singer is rude, unprofessional and a pervert." Sasza made a face. "The whole band is a bunch of weirdos and their music is just noise."

  
  
"Well, you don't like metal obviously, but why pick on them?"

  
  
"It's hard to explain but a man who gave me some advice when I started making a bet with a friend about fronting bands. They're the other band." She tossed a hand. "I'm obviously better and going to win but they talk a lot of crap so why not talk some back? I'm already on the charts and pop appeals to more people anyway."

  
  
"The bass player is handsome, look at that guy." The female host said, looking at a photo. It was a non-band photo of Steve, in a suit with his hands in his pockets, looking at the camera with a half-smile that was simultaneously boy next door and absolutely devastating.

  
  
Sasza snorted. "Yeah he's gay. Seriously. So's the lead singer and the drummer I swear to god they're like all gay."

  
  
"So what? Gay metal singers have a long history. The lead singer of Judas Priest has been out for years." The male host retorted.

  
  
"My point is if they want to be a silly niche band, they can have fun but I have more important things to do."

  
  
Phil reached over and stopped the video. "I kind of hate her, mostly for being right."

  
  
"Right about what?" Clint stared at him.

  
  
"Pop being more accessible. She can get on the radio a lot easier and she can be remixed. We're at a disadvantage."

  
  
"We are on the radio though. We've been on satellite radio since the album came out and now we're on terrestrial radio." Clint turned in place and cupped one of Phil's cheeks. "You pointed it out before baby. The bet only affects Tony and Justin. We can go on about our lives ignoring it." He paused, and then smirked. "She's also right about you being a perv and us being weirdos."

  
  
"Well, yeah, but stating the obvious doesn't earn brownie points." Phil kissed Clint's palm. "I'm going to message Tony about getting a few more shows scheduled, and you need to shower before I take your pants back off."

  
  
Clint laughed. "You're hornier than I was when I was a teenager, you dirty old man. Come get in the shower with me."

  
  
And with two not-alone showers under Phil's belt for the morning, nothing short of an apocalypse could dent his mood.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you watching Sesame Street?"

  
  
"Yes. I stopped watching the news in the morning. It was giving me heartburn." Tony replied, sprawled on his stomach in bed, the remote in one hand and making a grabby motion at Steve with the other. Steve snorted and moved to join him, so he tugged Steve down and snuggled him, smiling when Steve went with it. "How come we never do this at your place?"

  
  
"I have roomies." Steve replied dryly. "Sam might be alright with you but Bucky might overreact, he's not fond of strangers in his personal space." When Tony looked at him, he sighed. "Bucky's an injured vet. Amputee, PTSD and brain injury."

  
  
"Damn. Guess he can have all the space he wants, he's earned it. Does he have a good prosthetic? I've been doing work with them; I might be able to hook him up."

  
  
"I'll ask. He hasn't got a prosthetic arm at the moment." Steve shifted and ended up with a lapful of Tony staring up at him. "They might want to meet you anyway."

  
  
Tony studied his face for a long moment. "So which roomie were you fucking before we hooked up?"

  
  
Steve frowned. "Sam's just a friend and... yeah, Bucky and I had a thing but that was a long time ago."

  
  
"Before he got hurt."

  
  
"Yeah. I don't want to talk about it."

  
  
"Look, our easy chemistry in bed aside I've never known what this is exactly. So if I have your body and not your heart..."

  
  
Steve covered Tony's mouth. "You're digging a hole. Stop digging."

  
  
Tony nodded silently.

  
  
"Good. I like you. You're a pain in my everything, but I care for you a lot. If you can handle me rooming with an ex, I assure you it's about as bad as it'll get."

  
  
Tony snorted and moved Steve's hand. "I have so many insane exes you might want to prepare yourself Scott Pilgrim style."

  
  
"They won't stand a chance." Steve said seriously. "I'm a pretty good guy to have in your corner."

  
  
"Yeah. I know."

  
  
"On another note, apparently Maria took pity on your buddy Justin last night. Rescued him from Sassy and took him home."

  
  
"Dammit I wish we'd seen the rescue."

  
  
"All Maria's text said was that she was trying to lead Hammer around by the dick again and he didn't want to play so she defended his honor."

  
  
Tony burst into laughter at the concept of Justin having honor. "I am so glad I found you guys. Want to get breakfast?"

  
  
"Of course I do. Feed your boy toy, daddy."

  
  
"Never do that again."  


* * *

  
  
Steve was just walking up the stairs of his apartment, having been dropped off for only a few minutes, when Tony texted him about Sasza going on some morning show and bitching about Subvert (among other things).

  
  
This was confirmed when he walked into the apartment and paused to let Bucky see it was just him. Bucky was on the couch and was looking over the back of it. "They were talking about you on TV this morning."

  
  
"Ho boy look what the cat dragged in." Sam stuck his head out of the kitchen. "Long night Steve?"

  
  
"Long, good night." He agreed, shrugging his jacket off. "I hope they said good things about me on TV."

  
  
"They said you were handsome, and some bottle blonde called you gay." Bucky stood. He had a puppy lying on his forearm so his hand could steady the bottle it was thirstily drinking from. It was old enough to have open eyes and a wagging tail but no coordination whatsoever.

  
  
"Which I am." Steve agreed, walking over to coo at the puppy. "She's new, how many are you up to?"

  
  
"Five. And two kittens." Bucky smiled a little. On disability from the VA, his therapist had suggested that working with animals might help. So, Bucky fostered and bottle-fed puppies and kittens, patiently feeding them bottles around the clock, cleaning them with washcloths and sleeping on the floor with them piled on him. All the dog hair went nicely with his 'injured veteran - leave me alone' shirt.

  
  
How their landlord was okay with this Steve didn't know. Possibly because the apartment didn't at all smell like dogs, just slightly like lemon cleaner.

  
  
"It wasn't that she called you gay it's that she made it sound like a diss." Sam supplied, joining them and neatly unplugging the empty bottle to switch it for a full one. The puppy, a rolly poly amalgamation of pit bull and something much fluffier, burped and grabbed the second bottle. "Drama."

  
  
"She's nothing but drama and we barely give a damn about her. Phil's saying no press is bad press." Steve walked over to the playpen and reached down, fishing out a long-limbed skinny puppy that was probably mostly Irish setter, cradling it upside down and playing with it. He was moving to solid food, and his next foster family, soon.

  
  
"Might be." Bucky frowned. "No one should talk bad about you. There is nothing to say."

  
  
"Stating the facts isn't talking bad about me."

  
  
"It put you out there." Sam checked the other occupants of the playpen and found two sacked out week old terriers and the four week old lab being chewed on by the kittens and looking pleased about it. The kittens, barely old enough to toddle, turned into hissy fuzzy arches when they noticed him. "Are these cats or demons?"

  
  
"Leave'em alone, Sam, some asshole tried to toss them off a bridge." Bucky replied. "They're still a bit freaked out about it."

  
  
"Someone stop said asshole?" Steve hung the setter mutt upside down in a dance dip. It grabbed a ball and he stood it back up.

  
  
"No. Those two were on the far side of the rail. The rest were gone. Some bike messenger saw it and got those two, took them to rescue."

  
  
"I hate people."

  
  
"You love people. I hate people"

  
  
"I hate some people. You like a few."

  
  
Bucky silently allowed that assessment, parking the full fluffy pit into the playpen and liberating a kitten. It looked like a furry caltrop and sounded like a steam engine.

  
  
"Tony wanted to know if you wanted a prosthetic. He's doing a lot of work with them."

  
  
"Stark." He put the kitten in his cargo pants pocket. It shut up and sat with its head hanging out. He gave the other kitten the same treatment, with the pocket on the opposite leg.

  
  
"Hearing a lot about his prosthetics at the VA. Some of the local vets are helping him with testing. They say the limbs are kind of heavy but controlled by muscle impulse and that it's pretty awesome." Sam reflected.

  
  
"I'm still strong. Might balance me." Bucky walked to the kitchen with the kittens kangaroo pouched in his pants. They didn't argue, just craned their tiny triangle heads to watch him rinse the puppy bottle in the sink and collect a bowl of kitten formula and two feeding syringes.

  
  
"Should I tell him you're interested?" Steve followed into the kitchen, setting the setter down and putting it through the hand signal commands they were working on for all the dogs (sit, down, stay, come).

  
  
He sat at the table with his legs slightly stretched and started feeding the pocket kittens, switching between them. "Bring him here to talk. If he's alright we'll go further."

  
  
"He's a loud fast talking asshole."

  
  
"You like him."

  
  
"Yeah."

  
  
"Then he's probably okay." Bucky's eyes were on kitten number two, a dirty white and black patchwork thing that had tiny needle claws in the hand that held the feeding syringe.

  
  
"... Okay." Steve's smile was bemused. "I'll talk to him."


	3. Chapter 3

"So tell me about Mohawk girl."

  
  
Justin paused in his cooking, giving Maria as dubious a look as he can while wearing only his glasses and ridiculous sex hair. "You want to know about one of my ex-girlfriends?"

  
  
"Yes actually. Your description intrigued me, and you have to admit that makes for an interesting match. How'd you meet?"

  
  
He put his focus back on their breakfast. "Speed dating."

  
  
"Get out. Really?"

  
  
"Yeah. In my defense I was wing manning for a golf buddy."

  
  
"So your golf buddies are batting fifty percent."

  
  
"Yeah I guess. Her name is EJ. Her roller derby name was Squeegee. Because someone would need one to clean you off the track after she hits you of course."

  
  
Maria was delighted. "She sounds amazing."

  
  
"She is. We dated for eight months. Our initial speed date meet was a lot of confusion on both sides but I thought she was really interesting so I insisted on actually taking her out on a date. She decided she liked me after, for some reason."

  
  
"That's about where I am with you. You're a raging jackass but somehow I like you."

  
  
"I'm honest about it. I never claim not to be." He put bacon and a frittata into the oven. "There was some strain. My tax bracket tended to get kind of Mean Girls about her. She came with me to some corporate soirees and yeah she got looked at oddly. I always stood by her but eventually I just skipped that shit instead."

  
  
"So what happened?"

  
  
"She got a really awesome job offer in Austin. I helped her move out there because it was such a great opportunity. It was really sad because neither of us wanted to do the distance thing. Before she got on the plane she told me to find someone more corporate. I told her she was perfect and fuck that noise. That was it."

  
  
"You love her dearly."

  
  
He was washing the cutting board. "Guess I did yeah."

  
  
"You still do dumbass no wonder a twentysomething popstar is able to lead you around by the dick. You're pining so hard entire fjords have started existing."

  
  
Justin about choked on his own spit then burst into laughter. "Oh lord I like you. This is going to be trouble."

  
  
"Tell me about it."  


* * *

  
  
"So that happened."

  
  
"Did not figure you would be the one to take him home." Steve admitted, keeping his hands steady in the padded target mitts, watching her hit and moving with her to keep her on her toes.

  
  
"Well someone had to get him away from Sasza, and Natasha has Bruce at home making organic cookies." Maria bounced on her toes. "Didn't expect to find a broken hearted sort of-romantic under the facade."

  
  
"Ehh, I don't think he hides a god damn thing." Steve was thoughtful. "Which is his high and low point. He's like that guy from Lie To Me."

  
  
"Radical honesty?"

  
  
"Yeah whatever he called it. Hammer's not in it for the deception, he plays his shit out in the open and with fireworks. Probably that's why he and Tony are friends."

  
  
"Might be part of it. How is that thing with Tony?"

  
  
"Good. I still like him. Bucky isn't plotting his death yet."

  
  
"Wow, high praise."

  
  
Steve smiled a little. "I know. Bucky's considering the concept of a Stark prosthesis."

  
  
"So he can have two hands to play with puppies?"

  
  
"Probably. So, Justin Hammer, one-time thing?"

  
  
"Don't know. He's still painfully in love with an ex as near as I can tell. I think he mostly wants a girl to talk to who doesn't want his wallet or dick. I can do that."


	4. Chapter 4

"So you interview Sasza and now you're interviewing us. What, did her dissing of us intrigue you?" It was, in Phil's opinion, too goddamn early to be this awake and in a suit. He's retired god damn it. But the morning show wanted their interview so here he is. At least he doesn't have to put makeup on.

  
  
Steve's with him at their request and has in the few minutes since coming on the morning show set managed to nearly charm the pants/skirt off both interviewers, until Phil had told him to stop using his powers for evil and personal gain.

  
  
"Something like that." The woman, whose name he could not even be bothered to remember, agreed.

  
  
"We did some looking into your band. More, I mean." The guy said. "We're wondering your side."

  
  
"Well, a lot of what she said is legit actually." Steve admitted. "A bet between two financial backers got us signed. It's the only reason we're even aware of her."

  
  
"We don't exactly perform in the same genres." Phil put in. "Honestly, she can do what she wants. She doesn't realize she's playing our game not her own."

  
  
"What do you mean?" The woman looked honestly flummoxed.

  
  
"She's right about her music being more popular. Populist in general really." Steve considered his words. "Thing is, she isn't the Beatles."

  
  
"She'll crash and burn and be a fading memory in five years. Seriously how often do you hear any of the Mickey Mouse Club 90s stars these days? What was the survival rate on them, less than five percent? Timberlake's still around, but he's all I can think of." Phil pointed out. "We may not be huge, but we get along and we all believe in what we're doing, and metal bands? The fans tend to stick around and we love them for it."

  
  
"And in the meantime, her little temper fits about us and our unprofessionalism? She's selling us." Steve smiled.

  
  
"Oh wow. I get it. Subversion." The guy grinned. "You're using her."

  
  
"Not meaning to really but if you ask me to ride a crazy train I'll be conductor in less than five minutes. I guarantee you she'll have an online response to this before noon, denying everything we're saying and insisting she has staying power and that we're just a silly niche band led by a pervert."

  
  
"She's not wrong by the way." Steve added.

  
  
"Not in the least." Phil agreed. "Best part is she'll deny everything we say but what we're saying is she was absolutely right about everything she said."

  
  
"Did you guys plan this?"

  
  
"Nope. We haven't actually done anything." Steve said cheerfully. "We are leaves on the wind."

  
  
"And watch us soar." Phil smiled a touch.

  
  
"Err, well, on another note, is there a reason you don't sing, Steve? We've noticed that the two ladies of the band do."

  
  
"I can sing if that's what you're asking." Steve said after a beat.

  
  
"He has many fantastic singing voices." Phil deadpanned.

  
  
"I learned to sing by singing along with other music. So when I sing I sound like other singers. It's a good party trick but not so good for the band. I'm happy playing base anyway and Phil lets me cover whatever music I like when we do encores."

  
  
"You realize we have to hear you now." The woman said, eyebrow quirked.

  
  
Steve just barely rolled his eyes. "Alright, fine, name an artist and I'll see if I have them in my repertoire."

  
  
"Michael Jackson." The guy immediately said.

  
  
" _It’s close to midnight and something evil's lurkin' in the daaarrk_."

  
  
That made the two hosts lean back from Steve slightly and Phil laugh. "Did you think we were kidding? It's actually a little disturbing how uncanny he is. Probably he has his own singing voice buried in there somewhere."

  
  
"I can also tap-dance but no one asks me to do that on stage. If Phil decides he needs another guy on vocals backing up, he knows I'm good for it."

  
  
"Time for one last question before we break for commercial. Any plans for your next album?"

  
  
Phil considered. "I might have a few."  


* * *

  
  
"Personally I always thought a BALT sandwich was enough on its own. Maybe a little spicy mayo but why otherwise tamper with a proven formula?"

  
  
Sam waved the tongs in the air. "See? I agreed with you, then Bucky convinced me to try a few slices of chicken in a blackened rub, and my life has been changed forever."

  
  
"Are we really having a serious philosophical conversation about sandwich construction?" Natasha wanted to know, watching Bruce slice ciabatta rolls in half with fine precision.

  
  
"We are indeed." Sam agreed.

  
  
"Thanks for having us over by the way; I know we're a crowd."

  
  
"You are, but you're all people we like, and it's good for Bucky to talk to other people."

  
  
"I heard that." Bucky said from the living room. He and Clint were seated on the floor, Clint trying to make friends with the demon cats to no avail. "I talk to people."

  
  
"You speak to Steve and I and say as few words as necessary to the VA and your rescue organizations."

  
  
"Yes. People." Bucky handed Clint a feather toy. The kittens merely squinted at them from under the sofa.

  
  
"Can I be useful?" Phil wanted to know, not wanting to crowd the kitchen.

  
  
"Yes, you can slice tomato and avocado." Sam gestured with the tongs between bacon slices then paused when there was a knock at the door. "Who are we missing?"

  
  
"Must be Tony." Steve snorted, getting the door.

  
  
"I am fashionably late! But I come bearing beer and some kind of fancy cake I chose at random from a good bakery." Tony said with great flourish, coming in holding two six packs and a cake box.

  
  
"Effort noted." Steve laughed and took the cake.

  
  
"You don't want to eat his cooking, Pepper has told me stories." Maria said, sitting on the couch with a lap full of puppies.

  
  
"See, I knew it'd be trouble that she joined your studio." Tony tched. "I smell bacon!"

  
  
"BALTCH sandwiches." Sam said cheerfully. "More than enough for everyone."

  
"Ohh that's a high end promise." Phil whistled as he carefully dealt with avocado.

  
  
"So as your financial backer you clearly must tell me about these possible ideas for future albums you mentioned on the morning show." Tony declared, putting the beer in the fridge. "Oh, you must be Bucky?"

  
  
Bucky had been leaning to peek around the couch but leaned back.

  
  
"He's like a cat, it works better if you ignore him and let him come to you." Steve advised.

  
  
"My ears work just fine, Rogers." Bucky replied, watching a kitten poke a paw out from under the sofa to swat the toy.

  
  
"I don't know about these ideas either and I live with him." Clint inserted. "I don't nose about his lyrics binder. That's his deal."

  
  
"Yeah I had an idea." Phil admitted, transferring avocado slices to a plate and wiping the knife and cutting board. "But it's for a themed album."

  
  
"Themed as in all the songs circle a topic, like Iced Earth’s Horror Show album? Or themed like the album is a story, like Nightwish's Imaginarium?" Natasha asked.

  
  
"The latter."

  
  
"Pretty common in metal music, King Diamond's albums are all one long story." Bruce said.

  
  
"That dude looks way too normal to be that freaky." Sam muttered.

  
  
"Alright so I'm not totally turned off the concept." Tony decided. "Not that I have a say. You guys are more than successful enough I'm not meddling in your creative choices."

  
  
"Are you going to tell us about this album idea or let us quietly die of intrigue Phil?" Maria wanted to know. "Someone bring me a beer? I'm stuck."

  
  
"You have got to tell me where you got those rolls man." Sam said as Bruce lined up buttered rolls on a griddle to toast next to the bacon.

  
  
"I made them."

  
  
"He did indeed." Natasha confirmed.

  
  
"You're not going to teach me are you?"

  
  
"My recipes are my secret." Bruce smiled a little.

  
  
"Beer? Album theme?" Maria complained.

  
  
"Superheroes." Phil replied.

  
  
Steve took Maria a beer in the bacon-hiss filled quiet that followed.

  
  
"Okay. Did not expect that." Tony admitted. "Original ones? Because I am not getting you the copyrights for Superman."

  
  
"No, no. Totally original ones. Admittedly the cast would be based on those present here."

  
  
"Steve gets top billing right? He's totally got the jawline of a superhero." Clint said.

  
  
"Hah, sort of, I think he'd be the first introduced. I don't have a lot of details."

  
  
"Do we have a possible album name?" Natasha was frowning thoughtfully.

  
  
"Uh, yeah. Die a Hero." Phil was dispatching tomatoes.

  
  
"As in you either die a hero or live long enough to become a villain?" Bruce asked. "I'd say it's cliché but I'm not sure I've heard superhero themed metal yet."

  
  
"Welcome to metal, where the bible and knights fighting dragons are cliché." Phil replied. "You're read that run down explaining the genres using a knight a dragon and a princess right?"

  
  
"Uh, yeah, something like 'speed metal' is confusingly fast guitar starts, princess abruptly deflowered, both princess and dragon don't know what happened."

  
  
"Yes, that precisely."

  
  
"I want my hero to have a bow." Clint decided.

  
  
"Heroes don't use bows." Tony replied.

  
  
"Fuck you Stark Green Arrow uses a bow."

  
  
"Do you really want to be compared to a rich weirdo from Seattle or whatever?"

  
  
"Says the rich weirdo from Malibu." Steve smirked.

  
  
"Okay all of you weirdos. It's sandwich time. Build your own; whoever takes the last of something prepares more." Sam declared, and further conversation was paused in the rush to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How to tell metal genres apart: http://imgur.com/gallery/eIfTc


	5. Chapter 5

Phil sat at the kitchen table, a mug of tea in his hand as he contemplated the scattering of papers he had there. Of course now that he’d verbalized the concept to his friends and bandmates, it wouldn’t get out of his head, so now he’s writing down a storyline and character concepts, wondering how to get a superhero story told in full in the length of an album and maintain any depth of character or plot.

 

“Hey, babe, I’m…” Clint paused in the doorway, lifting an eyebrow at the sight. “Home.”

 

“Please don’t track mud on the clean kitchen floor.”

 

“Yes, dear.” Clint closed the door as he rolled his eyes, dropping his gear bag by the door and kneeling to unlace his muddy boots. “What’s the project?”

 

“Well now that you guys dragged the next album concept out of me I’ve been thinking about it.”

 

“Ohh boy. Tony’s going to be thrilled since he’s still trying to get us going for a tour for the album we just released.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I sent his tour ideas to Natasha and Maria to hash out.”

 

“Smart.” He stuck his boots on a boot tray and walked over, studying the papers. “Fucking hell, Phil, you’ve been busy.”

 

“I have a lot of ideas and not a lot of time to deal with them in. I had some reservations, I mean we’ve kind of got an anarchy theme going on and this is a superheroes story.”

 

“Eh, superheroes are intrinsically anarchists if you think about it.”

 

“Yeah, that’s what I concluded. So I decided to run with that, have a superhero get caught up in the social justice stuff Subvert’s rooting for.”

 

“Die a Hero suggests that won’t end well for him. Gonna have him get capped by the big bad government for his big mouth?”

 

Phil pursed his lips. “That’s an option. Alright, here’s my thought. Steve’s the lead hero.”

 

“Damn right! That physique and face? He’s a gold grade propaganda machine.”

 

He snapped his fingers and pointed at Clint, shoving a piece of paper over to him. “Bingo. Nail on the head. So Steve’s our World War Two era hero, overly patriotic costume and ethos, I mean just splattered in the stars and stripes and crying eagles.”

 

“Steve’s going to love you for this.” Clint sat down at the table, looking at what Phil had written up.

 

“Gives us our usual crooner opening too. This World War hero that gets lost, plane goes down in the ice, comic book physics.” Phil wiggled his fingers. “Gets found and brought back to an entirely different era.”

 

“Government wants him to get back in line and start cheering MURICA for the current events but Steve’s guy is smart and starts doing research, ends up more Occupy Wall Street than Tea Party?” Clint lifted an eyebrow. “He actually will love this actually. What are we calling him? Captain America?”

 

“You just pulled that out of your ass and it’s perfect. Write it down.”

 

“You write it down. I’m calling Steve.”

 

“He just got out of work.”

 

“I’m calling Steve to have dinner with us so he can brainstorm this with you and draw up the characters.”

 

“So I’m not crazy then?”

 

“You’re mad as a hatter but you’re onto something.”

 

Phil laughed out loud, flipped him off, and returned to his brainstorming.

* * *

 

“Actually as a concept I really like this. Not sure about the name but it fits the World War Two propaganda idea.” Steve had brought his tablet and was already working on drawing up his character. “So who’s playing the villains then?”

 

“Guest singers. I’m sure we can find some people who would be totally down for that.” Phil replied.

 

“On that note our former singer and drummer are back in the US.” Clint said cheerfully from the kitchen where he was rubbing spice onto chicken.

 

“Oh, they’d be down for that.” Steve said after a beat. “I’ll call them and ask after we have this more finalized. So where does everyone else fit in?”

 

“Clint wants to use a bow and arrow. Figured I’d let him be a hero that works for the government, a sniper. Sorta public, sorta clandestine. Code name Hawkeye.”

 

“I love you!” Clint sang happily.

 

“Figure Natasha’s the quieter half of that, sort of a duo; more close combat, martial arts, spy stuff.”

 

“What about you and Maria?”

 

“I thought Maria would enjoy being the government wonk this time. The one assigned to try to keep ahold of you.”

 

Steve was amused. “Not playing a feeb this time?”

 

“Well, sort of, I figured I’d also be assigned to you. Semi-retired government hero, seventies and eighties martial arts wahey. Code name Iron Fist.”

 

“Hah! So you’re playing a guy who drank the Kool aid and spent your entire career trying to do the right thing but now you’re older and your powers are starting to sputter so you’ve hit the edge of your usefulness so they hand you the kid who just defrosted.”

 

“Thanks.” Phil said sourly, drinking his tea. “Yeah something like that. Actually the idea of superpowers getting weak or erratic with age is a good idea.”

 

Steve paused in his scribbling and turned his tablet around, showing a rough out of a figure of his build in a red white and blue costume with a star on the chest, toting a shield. “You think?”

 

“Oh I do think. I’m still working on how the plot flows, like how your propaganda machine starts tilting liberal.”

 

“Oh that’s easy. He’s gay and he finds out its legal. Comes out of the closet in a shower of rainbow and glitter like Pinkie Pie fired the party cannon and the Republicans lose their fucking minds.”

 

“What era are we setting this in?” Clint wanted to know. “We’re being pretty topical. A couple years ago maybe so we have a clear timeline?”

 

“Risks dating the album.” Steve frowned. “Might get us some backlash too.”

 

“Alright I’ll try not to seriously name any names.” Phil sighed. “We’ll see how the songs go when I write them.”

 

“Just try to give me a cool death.”

 

“Like I’d do anything else.”


	6. Chapter 6

“So Princess Acid Candy is trying to sue Justin.”

 

Phil had literally just opened the door and ended up staring at him. “Nice to see you, please come in?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, Steve threw me out because apparently he’s drawing a comic now.” Tony shouldered in. “Which I entirely blame on you by the way!”

 

“Now you have two statements to explain to me. And by the way Princess Candy Acid makes Sassy Cow sound like a Mad Max villain or hero or, I don’t know, a new wave punk band.”

 

“Acid Candy. Candy Acid. WHATEVER.” Tony put his hands up. “She’s trying to sue Justin, okay?”

 

“Really, why?” Phil led the way into the kitchen and offered Tony the cookie jar. Tony grabbed two immediately when he saw they were homemade.

 

“Defamation of character!”

 

Phil was glad he hadn’t taken a drink of the iced tea he’d picked up because he’d either have choked or done a genuine spit take on Tony. “What? How? Was he stupid enough to be an ass on facebook?”

 

“Are you fucking psychic?” Tony demanded. “Yeah, she posted some shit, about how you guys have help and she did it alone and totally on her own and Justin fucking lost it, posted a fucking twenty four carat gold diss in response that was probably a page long and included bullet points and a chart. It was beautiful, man, you have no idea.”

 

“You’re facebook friends.”

 

“Pft of course we are. Me and Justin, obviously, not me and Sassy.”

 

“Of course. You realize you have to get on my computer and show me this post that’s apparently so gold she’s suing him over it.”

 

Five minutes later Tony had sat back and folded his arms, watching Phil’s face as he read the post.

 

“Wow. He even included citations. Somehow.” Phil shook his head in wonder. “And she’s suing him over this? I don’t think making factual statements is defamation.”

 

“It isn’t. Some judge is going to laugh them out of court.”

 

“And this has what the hell to do with me?”

 

“You’re the ex-feeb! Help! I’m phoning a friend to help him, hello!”

 

“Seriously?” Phil stared at him. “Defamation isn’t exactly something the FBI is known to care about unless it comes in an envelope full of strange white powder.” When Tony just looked at him, Phil sighed and dug his phone out of his pocket, hitting speed dial. “Hey. Nick. My fucking band bankroll wants me to rescue his idiot best friend.”

 

“I’m up to my neck in angry armed white guys right now, what do you want me to do about it?”

 

“Oath Keepers?”

 

“They’re the well behaved ones.” Nick grunted. “Does this have something to do with that chick who shouldn’t be a blonde?”

 

“Yeah, she’s apparently suing Justin Hammer for defamation. Does anyone in the LA/Malibu area owe me a favor? Just, you know, an hour to talk to her dad and explain the idiocy?”

 

“Actually on reflection this sounds like something most Agents would genuinely enjoy. A little bit of levity in their day.” Nick snorted. “I’ll call someone.”

 

“I owe you.” He hung up and looked at Tony. “Best I got. Why are you trying to save his ass anyway?”

 

“He threw the bet. Officially, it’s off.” Tony flopped on the living room couch in slow motion.

 

“Really. What precipitated that, did she show up naked to his house again?”

 

“He’s got some big project coming up at work and decided he couldn’t be bothered to worry about it since the new project carries pretty good weight, not as good as what we bet but yeah.” He waved a hand in the air. “So yeah, that’s over but it doesn’t get Sassy out of your hair apparently. She genuinely hates you guys.”

 

“It just makes her look childish.”

 

“Steve says he wants to make her some idiot reporter in his comic project but I told her that might actually become a legal thing unless he makes it a maybe it’s her maybe it isn’t thing.”

 

“Alright, bringing me to the second baffling thing you said. Yeah Steve draws, he does graphics design and is I guess pretty known in his field but I’ve never known him to draw comics.”

 

“Yeah I went by his place and he had a stack of newly purchased books about the 1930s and 1940s and how to draw comics, not the drawing part but the actual visual medium of graphic novels and he had character designs and yeah, I think he’s taking your idea for his character and running. From what little he said he’s drawing out the backstory of Captain America.”

 

Phil blinked. “I look forward to reading it. I just gave him basic lead up to where the album is but there’s a lot of room there to expand, I’ll work with it.”

 

“You’re seriously going for this superhero thing aren’t you? Don’t forget you still have that first album that’s getting more play on the radio.”

 

“Yeah, I know, satellite radio’s playing Focus and $erene quite a bit.” Phil hummed.

 

“That reminds me! Satellite radio wants to interview Subvert. You down?”

 

“Yeah, sure, give us a week or two so everyone can get time off from work.”

 

“You know I’m sure I wouldn’t have to worry about that if I’d picked another band.”

 

“You chose us because we’re ruggedly independent. Deal with it.”


	7. Chapter 7

The interview with satellite radio went reasonably well.  
  
The entire band managed to get time off so they could fly to be in the studio. A band actually sitting into the studio was something that happened semi constantly on satellite radio because it was a damn good promo opportunity, so the band was reasonably happy to be there. Natasha and Maria brought acoustic guitars and Clint brought bongo drums.  
  
They filled their given time easily and hung out in the studio after, bullshitting with Kayla the rest of her shift and making music suggestion. They performed some unplugged versions of a few songs, which were of course recorded to become radio exclusive, and Phil talked about the background of the songs.   
  
They also, when they weren't even supposed to be there anymore, performed a Capella version of a song off Die a Hero.  
  
With a lot of caveats of course. Phil admitted it was very rough so it will change from now to album, possibly even the lyrics. They hadn't figured out the instruments yet, so it was just him and Steve singing the song, sometimes in harmony and sometimes in an exchange, the song a discussion, almost an argument. The song was called Propaganda War and it was Steve's character the world war relic versus Phil's character the reluctant establishment.   
  
Eventually of course they were out of the studio and finding a restaurant that was worth it, sitting together and talking about everything but the band.

* * *

  
  
"You're having focus issues."  
  
"Yes, I know." Phil grunted around his swings at the punching bag.  
  
"I mean, don't get me wrong. It's fantastic that you have another album idea, and it actually seems really interesting but you just put one out."   
  
"Why are you saying shit like I am not well aware of it and living it?" Phil slammed the bag with a kick, making it swing.  
  
Tony just barely quirked an eyebrow. "Because I'm still figuring out how you work. You're a more complicated machine than I initially thought, even knowing you were an ex-FBI anarchist."  
  
He decided it wasn't worth arguing that he wasn't a machine and wasn't actually an anarchist, but did pause with his hands still up, looking at Tony. "Are you bitching at me because Steve likes the Die a Hero idea enough he's spending time on it?"  
  
"Am I that transparent?"  
  
Phil chuckled and laid into the bag again. "You have the look of a man who would rather be naked with someone else right now but was kicked out."  
  
"Accurate, you creepily perspective jerk." Tony pouted. "I hope you haven't set the next album in stone because he's storyboarding a comic right now."  
  
"I know. Bucky's in it and finds that fact hilarious."  
  
"Bucky finds things hilarious?"  
  
"Hey." Phil gave him a look. "He might be a damaged punk but trust me. He is still a punk. He just doesn't show it around many people because he doesn't trust many people."  
  
"He's asked me through Steve to come by soon to discuss prosthetics."  
  
"Needs another hand to walk the dogs."  
  
"Yeah. Probably."  
  
"Are you just insecure about the fact that he and Steve was a thing and now Steve's putting him in the Captain America comic?"  
  
He tossed his hands up. "As Captain America's long time best friend and maybe boyfriend from the World War II era no less!"  
  
Phil stopped again and stared at Tony, who'd shown up actually in a suit, polished and sharp as a razor, but casual postured in a way that gave him this strange air of chic sleaze. "I'm not putting you in the album. I don't have enough time on a CD as it is and I don't want to commit to a two disk album."  
  
He face palmed.   
  
"And don't you dare call me impossible. You're the one who decided to demand to be let in when I'm in the middle of my workout."  
  
"Have you considered making your superhero a psychic instead of some kind of mystical martial artist?"  
  
"I like the mystical martial arts angle."  
  
"Someone is going to accuse you of cultural appropriation over it."  
  
"I'm a fifty year old white man. Of course they are."


	8. Chapter 8

The tour was limited, but they headlined and got to pick their openers. The band immediately called up Breaking Day, on the pretense that they've shared a stage before and the band was a young and slightly stoned class act. Breaking Day lost their shit as that basically made them an unsigned band opening a signed band, on tour, what the fuck.

 

Subvert was too busy trying to get their own affairs in order. For Steve it meant going on sabbatical after wrapping some important design jobs. Clint, Maria and Natasha all had their own businesses and thankfully had some ability to leave said businesses in the hands of trusted employees, only having to apologetically delay one on one lessons.

 

Tony was still looking into overseas interest so it was a limited American tour. Twenty shows over the course of ten weeks, the venues chosen for capacity and popularity. If a smaller venue was known for metal they went with the smaller venue.

 

Phil tried not to worry about it and ended up obsessing over, well, everything and ended up winning one argument about Tony: with a limited tour and some long distances between venues, a bus wasn't an investment to make. So, the bands would be flying between venues. Two Stark Industries drivers and a SI box truck got a bonus and were entrusted with the gear for both bands, the truck repainted grey with the Subvert logo on the sides and the eagle on the door on the back.

 

Phil argued that, even, it was fine for their gear to travel in an SI truck. Might even discourage theft and would be cheaper for god's sake. The bet was over, the band was making money, Tony needed to stop spending money on them. It made the band feel far too corporate for what they were.

 

Tony was having none of it.

 

And after their first show (local tour kickoff, sold out) he presented artwork of himself in what could be called a cyberpunk version of a Knight's armor.

 

"Yeah, I get that I have no training or moral standing to be a hero but fuck that, I'm rich and a genius. Self inventing, baby."

 

Steve, half naked half still in leather, had looked at the drawing binder with an appreciative laugh. "Nice suit, make it yourself?"

 

"Hell yes I did." Tony grinned. "I am Iron Man."

 

Maria about choked on her powerade. "Oh my god."

 

"Okay, can I just point out I wanted to write an interesting album not start a comic book franchise?" Phil wanted to know. Clint was seated, he was rubbing Clint's shoulders.

 

"This is all but out of your hands." Tony told him.

 

"You're the one that made me the lead character." Steve pointed out.

 

"I don't regret it but if five years from now you're drawing comics for pay instead you don't get to complain to me, Steve. I would never have asked for anything more than some art for the album cover and liner notes."

 

"I still get to be an archer right?" Clint looked up at Phil.

 

He kissed Clint's forehead. "Yes. You are my ex carny archer assassin fiance and I love you."

 

"I thought his character was supposed to be different than he really is." Natasha deadpanned.

 

"Lies! I'm still a carny." Clint countered.

 

"If this conversation doesn't end in you showing us your tights I will be so disappointed." Tony tutted.

 

"You do know you aren't going on tour with us right?" Phil wanted to know.

 

"I'm not?"

 

"You have a company to run or something." Clint pointed out, turning his head and nosing one of Phil's arms until he started rubbing again.

 

"And we feel enough like posers without you chaparoning." Natasha admitted.

 

"I'm not chaparoning, I'm protecting my investment."

 

"Tony, no." Steve said, having taken pictures of Tony's drawings with his phone.

 

"Ffiiine, but Justin and I are coming to one of your later shows."

 

"Like we can stop you. How is he?" Maria wanted to know.

 

"Blessedly free of Sassy Cows at the moment. I'll let him know you're thinking of him." Tony kissed Steve, took his binder back, and left, talking over his shoulder as he goes. "My armor's mostly red, Steve!"

 

"... gods help us." Phil observed in the stunning quiet that Tony had left behind.

 

"What was that about not starting a comic franchise?" Maria wanted to know.

 

"You hush. Come on, let's go sleep in our own beds for the novelty before we leave."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't know, I am not in the music industry. I work in nuclear power.
> 
> I have only a faint idea of what I am doing.

"Steve found his bliss."  
  
Phil stepped out of the hotel bathroom, lifting an eyebrow at Clint, who was sitting on the bed with his tablet. "Did he go to a toy store without me?"  
  
"Perv. Don't think I'm not getting you that French maid outfit."  
  
"Only if you get leather pants. But really, Steve's bliss?"  
  
"He sent me his comic rough. It needs some cleanup and I made a few notes about speech bubble placement, but really? This is really good. I mean, it's a little cheesy but the lead character is Captain America for god's sake. This is a really solid backstory. He's still using his real name as the character's real name but his comic self seems to be bi."  
  
"Huh, interesting." Phil had wandered to the window of the hotel room, staring out. "Steve's never shown a passing interest in women that I've seen but what do I know."  
  
"Well its 1940s bi. Kind of illegal back in the day, but he's done a lot of research." Clint flipped back. "His alter ego grew up very sickly."  
  
"Steve had some health problems when he was younger. He's diabetic you know."  
  
Clint slowly looked up. "Wait what? That fucking Greek statue come to life is a diabetic?"  
  
"It's one of the reasons he maintains like he does." Phil explained over his shoulder. "He's not insulin dependent but he is very careful to make sure he never has to be."  
  
"Damn. I had no idea." Clint shook his head. "Well his alter ego starts off pretty sickly but tough. He's like a Chihuahua, no sense that his size and frailty means he shouldn't be getting in fights. Best friend goes to war so he signs up for an experiment that makes him an Adonis. Becomes a propaganda machine, goes to war, loses the friend and is lost in the ice himself."  
  
"So he's folding into the album start? Awesome."  
  
"Yeah this feels like the lead up and honestly? I think he's got something. He's a great graphics designer but I think he could be an even better comics artist and writer. Like it's not fully colored in but he has notes about how the pre super soldier Steve is colorblind so everything before the experiment is going to be in colorblind vision."  
  
"Huh."  
  
Clint set the tablet aside and slid off the bed, moving to hug Phil from behind, setting his chin on Phil's shoulder. "You okay?"  
  
"Yeah, just... thinking about where we are. I mean, I never thought we'd get this far. So few do." Phil leaned back into him. "We're fucking on tour, Clint. That is mind blowing."  
  
"Will it make you feel better if I told you Sassy found out and she posted a comment on the band's facebook saying our tour is tiny and embarrassing and our subversives are currently nailing her to an upside down crucifix?"  
  
Phil laughed softly. "I am not surprised but I am a little intrigued. By all means, please show me."  
  
\--  
  
They'd flown in a few days ahead of their first tour stop, wanting to at least try to ease into it. Which meant Phil had no guilt sitting on his laptop through the evening, having logged onto the band's Facebook to comment at their subversives and just generally be the perv he'd always been (starting by making his lead post the fact that he's in a hotel half naked and there's a sold out house of six thousand in two days, hello!).  
  
Yeah, they aren't huge yet but the fact that the lead singer was responding to followers on Facebook got some attention and he bantered back and forth with some fans. The inevitable question of "which half" was answered by him taking a photo of himself at the hotel desk with his webcam, positioning so the sheer expanse of his phoenix tattoo showed.  
  
Which is when Sassy replied to tell him to put his shirt back on because no one wanted to see that. Then some subversives demanded to know where the hell she got off.  
  
Phil sat back and watched the typed carnage with amusement. "If I have any takeaway from this it's that Sassy likes her men manscaped."  
  
Clint leaned on the back of his chair, grabbing Phil's hair to make him tip his head back and kissing him slowly. "She's got no taste at all."  
  
"None. As evidenced by her footwear, ugh." Phil snickered as Clint spun the hotel office chair around, taking advantage of the shift to run greedy hands up Clint's sides, looking up at him.  
  
"Why do you keep noticing her shoes?" Clint took his shirt off and tossed it aside.  
  
"Because they're horrible. How have you not noticed?" He put his hands on Clint's sides and tugged.  
  
"This chair is not strong enough for us to fuck in babe, if you want me in your lap you have to move."  
  
Phil pouted, but stood, shutting his laptop.   


* * *

  
  
Steve put a comic style piece of art up on their Facebook the same evening, of his current design of Captain America with his shield. 'Die a Hero' was written graffiti style on the shield.  
  
And for the next several tour dates, he kept putting art out, all of their character designs with the album name worked in, Clint's written in arrows and bullet holes on the background, Phil's in the sputtering energy trailing a punch, Natasha's in electricity sizzling around cuffs, Maria's across a logo that Steve had given to the agency that managed heroes.  
  
Phil didn't argue, even if he only had lyrics for about half an album. It was actually very cool, seeing the band rendered in Steve's art.  
  
And very hilarious when suddenly Sassy started posting professional fantasy art and declared her next album was going to be a fantasy epic.


	10. Chapter 10

"That one-upmanship is fucking biblical. Hell, I might go so far as to call it positively Tolkeinesque." Tony said, racking balls.  
  
"Pft, don't suspect I know anything, I haven't talked to Sassy since she dropped the slander case against me. Well I lie; I've talked to her once."  
  
Tony gave Justin a look. "Tell me you didn't screw her."  
  
"Pft. Better standards, man, onward and upward." He snorted, putting chalk on his pool cue. "I mean I guess I should be glad she's going elves fairies and unicorns instead of sci fi. Bad enough she did a video based on Barbarella."  
  
"Holy shit, did she?"  
  
"Yeah, mind you I'm sure she never watched it, she just saw that I have a framed poster for Barbarella in my home theater." He lined up and shot.  
  
"Good break." Tony appraised. "And yeah I agree. I imagine she went fantasy because it's arguably easier and her fans probably read Twilight."  
  
"Ugh. Fucking ugh." He sank a ball. "What did I ever see in that?"  
  
"You didn't because your eyes were rolling back in your head." Tony replied tartly, getting into position when Justin missed the second shot.  
  
"Yeah, maybe. Probably. There's not a trailer hitch that has chrome in a two mile radius of her."  
  
Tony cackled, having to pause before his shot to do so. "Damn, dude."  
  
He snorted and took a swig of his beer. "Whatever. What's amazing is she's acting like a sore loser without losing a damn thing."  
  
"Yeah. As said it is a truly special level of one-upmanship and what's hilarious is Subvert doesn't care, Facebook sass aside."  
  
"Dude I nearly had to go to court over Facebook sass."  
  
"You're welcome. Phil was just thrilled when I asked him to make those calls."  
  
"Right, right."  
  
"So any idea what Sassy's album is about?"  
  
"She didn't tell me. I agree she's going to a themed album because Subvert's next album is themed. The superhero thing is pretty cool by the way; your fuckbuddy has some great drawing skills." Tony had missed so Justin got back into position, seeing Tony's face. "What, you want me to call him your boyfriend?"  
  
"I get you. And yeah that's Subvert's consensus. She saw Steve's art and tried to try to jump on a nonexistent bandwagon. They think it's absolutely hilarious but also interesting because it's not really something usually done in pop music."  
  
"I did some looking and themed albums in pop aren't common." Justin sank another ball. "Honestly loathe as I am to say this if she pulls it off it might be something semi cool and original. Maybe gothic Lolita fairy shit will go mainstream and I wouldn't argue that."  
  
Tony shouldered him. "You just like dressing up the women in your life."  
  
"Hell yes I do. What, you haven't dressed up Steve?"  
  
"Well not yet but they're going to need some expensive custom work if they want to do the shows in costume."  
  
Justin paused to consider that and laughed when Tony shouldered him repeatedly, taking his turn and swearing when he didn't sink a ball. "That's a lot of leather to have on stage."  
  
"Maybe. We'll see. I think you're giving Sassy Cow too much credit, I mean if she pulls it off it might be cool but she has just as much chance of being elected Governor."  
  
"Arnie and Jessie the Body Ventura were elected." Justin reflected. "But I see your point. She's not in a genre that plays well to extended narrative. What's a three minute pop song going to say?"  
  
"Potentially a lot." Tony lined up a shot. "Plenty of pop music has made statements; they just tend to be popular statements. You have to go to punk or metal or industrial for counterculture."  
  
"Good point. Hey why are we talking about this? I did throw the bet."  
  
"Possibly the smartest decision you've recently made."  
  
"Blow me."  
  
"See if you'd let me do that we'd probably be married already."  
  
Justin scoffed. "Yes, and if you had tits you'd be my wife, we've discussed this. You are not getting into my pants."  
  
"Prude."  
  
"Whore. We're still going to the show next week right?"  
  
"Of course we are."  
  
"Forgive me if I don't Facebook it ahead of time. I don't need Sassy taking that as an invitation to show up."  
  
"Pfft do it and gloat. All their shows sold out. They're freaking out about it."  
  
"I saw that. And that they call their fans subversives."  
  
"Yeah, I sort of love it."  
  
"Are they aware you're living through them vicariously?"  
  
"I am very certain they've noticed."


	11. Chapter 11

Phil knew the newness of all this would eventually wear off.  
  
That he wouldn't remember each crowd vividly, each face staring up at him on the stage. That he wouldn't get a surge of adrenaline before going on stage and leave after each set feeling both wrung out and wound up. That eventually this would all start to feel like the job it was.  
  
He decided, still in the shower with Clint in a hotel, holding onto each other as they came down, that if it ever did wear off, it was time to retire again.  
  
But he hopes it never changes.

* * *

  
  
"Update on the Sassiest of Cows. Anyone still care?" Phil asked. They were sitting in an airport waiting for their flight home, the last tour date behind them. Tony had shown up with Justin, both ridiculously Victorian Gothed out because apparently since they'd never blend might as well stick out in a not out of place way. Steve had apparently had fun getting Tony out of all his layers after the show.  
  
"The bet was thrown, what, months ago. Why are we caring about her?" Clint wanted to know, lying across Phil's lap.  
  
"Mostly because she's insisting on caring about us." Maria deadpanned.  
  
"She tried to hire me to do art for her." Steve had his tablet in his lap, doodling while they waited, watching Natasha go obligingly through some dance forms for his comic figure work.  
  
"Are you shitting me?" Phil stared at Steve.  
  
"Not at all. She apparently didn't realize that S. Rogers the artist posting the comic stuff was the same as the band bassist."  
  
"Oh good gods."  
  
"Or she didn't care or wanted to poach you." Clint pointed out.  
  
"Also possible. Probably she pointed at my stuff looked at her manager and said 'I want that.'" Steve rolled his eyes.  
  
Phil stroked Clint's hair, smiling down at him. "Sounds age appropriate. Apparently her next album is legit original fantasy with a female sorceress main character."  
  
"A female sorceress with her tits out, I assume. Modest costuming isn't entirely her style." Natasha balanced on her toes, smiling as she did because other people waiting for the plane were watching her move. "She is definitely in the Britney Spears School of pop."  
  
"Spears always sounded twelve in her videos. Like seriously arrested." Clint's voice was mellow, eyes closed and focusing on Phil's hand. "Still, the adventures of a pop sorceress sounds vaguely original. Are unicorns involved?"  
  
"Fairies supposedly."  
  
"Think she'll do research and realize that fairies are actually assholes?" Steve asked.  
  
"Maybe, maybe not. Has Supernatural ever shown Angels that are flaming wheels?" Maria pointed out.  
  
"Hey. Everyone knows it's all about Crowley." Natasha counted. "Demons or nothing. At least they're honest, semi-ironically."  
  
"Make a deal, keep it is just good advice." Phil was scrolling his phone. "So yes, look forward to fairy wings having a fashion resurgence. She's already got a hashtag for the album on twitter and I swear to you it's hashtag fairy time."  
  
"I feel like we should go aloof and politely ignore her but if she's insisting on being a slow motion train wreck I guess I'll watch." Steve had doodled monarch inspired wings on the drawing of Natasha, making her wings match her hair.  
  
"Let's be fair. I doubt the album will be horrid. She has a lot of professionals helping her including songwriters probably." Maria pointed out.  
  
"That would make me feel so fake." Phil muttered. "Hey Steve, my character has one song to himself at this point. I am kind of story narrating though so I don't write myself out of my band job."  
  
"It's still your album and concept. I'm just drawing it."  
  
"Nah man you totally own this and it’s kind of awesome." Clint muttered.  
  
".. Are you guys famous?" One of the other airport patrons asked.  
  
Phil's smile was beatific. "Just a little."


	12. Chapter 12

"First of all, let me just state that I as well as my band, Subvert, have no hostility or even what could be termed 'bad feelings'," Phil finger quoted to the camera, "toward Sasza. Seriously we could care less and honestly it's kind of sad I have to say this on record. This entire mess started because of two men, Justin Hammer and Tony Stark, starting a frankly ridiculous bet that one could get a better band signed and touring. Hammer assisted Sasza in some way I am frankly unclear on, Stark assisted us.  
  
But honestly? The bet never affected Sasza or Subvert. We certainly sassed about it but come on it was born from a place of love. She's half my age for fuck's sake, I am not such an asshole that I'm going to try to denigrate someone that young. Sasza is successful in her own genre and hey, I will always support happy music even if it is not my cup of tea. Hell I'm even looking forward to the idea of fairy wings becoming a fashion accessory, that shit is adorable.  
  
So I really have no idea why she's throwing a shit fit about us and it's getting so goddamn tiresome. The really sad part is every time she says our name on video we get a sales bump, so realize how annoyed I am to try to put an end to this. Sasza, I say this with only good intentions: grow up a little. Seriously. This is not high school, you can't just whine and start rumors to undermine us, and posting on our Facebook isn't wise either because yes we have some fans. Our subversives have been eager and loud in putting you as well as your fans down and chasing you away.  
  
So honestly I don't give a fuck about your waifu sorceress fairy album or your outfits or how much you hate us. We're adults with jobs. You're a toddler throwing a tantrum and we're just looking on and feeling slightly embarrassed for you.  
  
Now that that's out of the way, hello subversives! New t-shirts in our online store and Steve's comic book leading up to our next album is officially in editing. When we know anything about publishing dates we will let you know but so far the actual pros of the comic book world seem to like it. We shall see. Keep listening and we love the fan art keep it coming." He saluted and stopped the recording.  
  
He watched the playback once or twice, considering, before putting it on Facebook.  
  
"We should get married." Clint leaned on the back of Phil's chair, setting his chin on top of his head.  
  
"We should totally have a fairy wedding." Phil replied and grinned when Clint burst into surprised laughter. "But yes, I agree. We should start considering the actual event."  
  
"I think we should fly our besties to somewhere fun for it." He hummed. "We have enough money. Nawlins?"  
  
"Kind of cliché, lots of weddings happen there and it isn't a rock and metal location." Phil hummed. "There IS a gothy club called The Dungeon that opens late at night. I bet if we asked and set it far far ahead they would be down."  
  
"Gothic fairy wedding on Devil's night. Pay everyone's air fare and nearby hotel for a few days so everyone can Halloween on the French Quarter. We can walk around in sappy matching shirts with Just Married in gothic script or some shit."  
  
Now Phil was laughing. "Gothic fairies. So unseelie fey?"  
  
"Fuck yeah you think I'm kidding?" He kissed the top of Phil's head. "Get custom wings with skulls'n'shit."  
  
"You are a man of peculiar tastes." Phil tipped his head back and caught Clint for a kiss.


	13. Chapter 13

Time, Phil realized, had slid by him this year. Everything had happened seemingly so fast, meanwhile months had gone by. They had already been in somewhat warm weather when this had all started and they'd met Stark. Plus negotiation and recording time and the album going on sale, and planning a limited tour then going on that tour? The year had passed and he'd barely noticed.  
  
Well he had but it had never been at the front of his mind, too preoccupied with other tasks. He had time to reflect on this while scraping ice off his car with Clint.  
  
"You know, we can totally afford covered parking." Clint said as he cleared one of the side windows.  
  
Phil paused. "We can can't we. I will have to ask."  
  
"It can't be that much and this sucks. I'd suggest we all move south but, like, then the music community would suck."  
  
"Why aren't you wearing gloves? I have bought you like three sets of gloves." Phil gave him a look until Clint made a face and pulled a set out of his coat pocket.  
  
"Pfah see if I actually marry you."  
  
"Whiner."  


* * *

  
  
Nick, to his credit, didn't laugh. Jasper was clearly considering it. John, having no concept of tact around friends, leaned on the table and laughed his ass off.  
  
"Alright, Devil's night in New Orleans. Just as well you've missed it this year because getting good hotel there? We will have to schedule this far out. I need a guest list as soon as possible." Nick said.  
  
"Holy shit you're serious about doing the wedding planning." Clint was stunned.  
  
"It isn't my first time." He replied. "I happen to be excellent at logistics, Barton."  
  
He couldn't argue that.  
  
"I'll get it to you by the end of the month." Phil promised. "I don't know about the venue. I don't think they often do weddings. Tony knows a guy or so he says and he approved of the choice."  
  
"Tell him to email me."  
  
"Fairies." John said around giggle snorts.  
  
"I get the joke but will it still be funny next year?" Jasper wanted to know.  
  
"Are you saying you don't want to run around in custom fairy wings?" Phil asked.  
  
He blinked. "I... can't say I have ever thought about that but now that you mention it..."  
  
"How about we say Victorian Goth with optional fairy wings?" Clint replied. "It's New Orleans; they have balls and stuff all the time."  
  
"Now that I like." Nick nodded once. "Class it up. Make the custom wings the party favor, have people request a theme for their wings when they RSVP. Have some check boxes for wing shape and size and a write in after."  
  
"That's doable. Maria knows someone who can do custom fairy wings that are somewhat durable. She wants to do leather ones for Clint and I and lighter ones for guests." Phil was thoughtful. "And it’s a damn sight better party favor than most weddings."  
  
"You need to get me the contact information of everyone else involved."  
  
"I will."  
  
"I want to know what kind of wings you're getting." John looked at Nick.  
  
"Keep up your attitude and you'll just get a sign that says 'wingless asshole.'" Clint told him.  
  
Nick, at the same time, said, "Rainbows feathers and glitter of course."  
  
Phil snickered. "Like they were designed by a four year old?"  
  
"Exactly. I want wings that came straight out of a kindergartener's princess fantasy."  
  
"I will hold you to that Marcus."  
  
Clint snickered. "I like it Nick, the wings will be totally you."  
  
Phil smiled when Clint leaned sideways onto his shoulder. "It's entirely ridiculous right?"  
  
"Please explain to me how its ridiculous compared to the rest of your life." John demanded. "Since apparently your next album will have you dressing up as a martial arts reject from the 80s on stage."  
  
"Are you sassing my bassist's ability to costume my hero persona because I love it and unlike you I actually have taste and fashion sense."  
  
"Ohhhh." Jasper grinned.  
  
"This from a man with a tattoo on his neck. You're going to give me fashion advice?"  
  
"He's going to strangle you with a two hundred dollar tie." Nick gave John a look. "You would not even be his first victim."  
  
"At this point he is not even getting an invite." Phil sniffed. "Miss out on the open bar and Bourbon Street Halloween see if I care."  
  
"Oh come on. Someone has to not kiss your ass, man. Your life is fucking insane." John scoffed.   
  
"Only from the perspective of someone who doesn't realize I've changed and I'm happy."  
  
"No he's right our life is pretty insane." Clint told Phil. "It just isn't bad insane which is what he's implying."  
  
"Girls you are all very pretty." Jasper said primly.  
  
"Yeah I thought we were planning a wedding." Nick chuckled softly.  
  
"Want my advice? Elope." John pointed at Phil.  
  
"You have no romance in your soul at all. Do I need to write another song about you?"  
  
"Wait, another?"  
  
"Yes, I think he is uninvited to the wedding." Nick got out a pen and made a note in a binder he had. "I need to get with Stark, and your bandmate's friend. I can say without a doubt that we can pull off Victorian Goth in NOLA, it's practically a perfect location actually. Have you considered what colors for your wedding because if you use purple green and gold that's Mardi Gras colors and we'll be able to find all sorts of shit, even somewhat classy shit, on the cheap."  
  
Clint perked up. "I like purple."  
  
"Hon there are satellites that know you like purple. Possibly alien societies that do. You've asked for purple fairy wings with arrows for our wedding."   
  
"Purple for Clint, Gold for Phil, Green for guests. Done." Nick made a note.   
  
"Gold wings. Gold leather wings." Phil repeated.  
  
"With lace?" Clint gave him puppy dog eyes.  
  
"I can't even wiseass anymore." John was shaking his head. "It's like we've hit the Poe's Law of Gay."  
  
"Wait, we're at a gay level of separation from Hitler?"  
  
"That's Godwin's Law." Jasper said thoughtfully.  
  
"This conversation officially requires booze." Nick set his pen down.  
  
"It is not even noon." Phil pointed out. "But I know a place. Many places. Some even also have food."  
  
"Alright, I vote we move this conversation to one of those locations."  
  
"I second the vote."  
  
"Motion carried."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Mardi Gras colors,
> 
> Purple is Justice  
> Gold is Power  
> Green is Faith


	14. Chapter 14

"I'm just worried using Mardi Gras colors for a non Mardi Gras event will come across as tacky." Their master bath had a tiled bench. Phil was sitting on it, Clint seated on the floor between his legs, leaning back on the bench as Phil massaged conditioner through Clint's hair. Which was probably conditioned enough but they were just enjoying the process at this point.  
  
"Mmmnngh. Baby you can get beads in the three colors at any event they throw beads for. That includes Halloween and New Year’s." Clint's voice was drowsy, head moving with Phil's hands. "They're more the colors of New Orleans so we're just going native."  
  
"I suppose."  
  
"Besides, it's a gothic fairy wedding for two gay guys. Not going to say you're ever tacky but the situation does seem to call for some flamboyance. We're being silly. Let's enjoy it for what it is."  
  
Phil smiled fondly. "Very true. I mean by all rights we should be having a superhero wedding."  
  
"Iron Fist and Hawkeye." Clint hummed, straightening just a bit to stretch.  
  
Phil had his conditioned hair up in spikes then massaged back through it before grabbing the handset of the shower, tipping Clint's head back and rinsing his hair. "Did that new girl handle your one on ones alright while we were gone?"  
  
"Kate? Yeah she did, she's pretty great." He paused. "I know you're not her biggest fan."  
  
"She's your employee, not mine, and most of her issues are age related. Give it a few years and the entitled attitude should wear off." Phil hummed. "She has talent anyway."  
  
"Mini Merida said she liked me better. She's still totally Mongol style, I've been telling her about the Mongolian warrior queens during lessons."  
  
"And well she should! She'll be a fine young Khutulun someday."  
  
"She loves Khutulun but her mom said she got in trouble at school for demanding to wrestle boys for their horses."  
  
Phil had to pause to laugh heartily. "Reminds me of Wednesday Addams."  
  
"Ah yes Wednesday's Great Aunt Calpurnia." Clint said wisely, opening his eyes and looking back at Phil upside down with a smirk. "Can I dance naked in your town square?"  
  
He let out an overdone sigh. "Why am I marrying you?"  
  
"Daily tickets to the gun show?"  
  
Phil broke and laughed, leaning down and kissing Clint. "All that strength is pretty hot. Especially when you let me pin you down."  
  
"Big words, feeb." Clint replied, a little breathless.  
  
"Come on, I am too damn old to try to kill myself fucking in the shower."

* * *

  
  
It always amused Phil, how much Clint got off on being the bad boy to Phil's G-man. It was probably some kind of kink, but they never really talked about it. Clint loved Phil in his suits, the flawless authority figure he got to strip and take apart.   
  
If anything it only bothered Phil because Clint always cast himself as a bad boy and honestly even when he'd been threatening the archer with discipline for unending radio chatter and insubordination in general, Clint had always been so good. He was so good at what he did and he did it with a wiseass smile and a head banging song in his heart.  
  
So it probably was a kink that Clint sometimes wanted Phil to pin him down and ride him, and that Phil would lean down and kiss him after and praise him for how good, how amazing he is. They don't really talk about it and it's just as well. Their dynamic's always been interesting and it's just another way they tangle up together.  
  
Afterwards Clint had a giggle fit while Phil cleaned them both up. Phil on rolled his eyes and sprawled on Clint after, sighing after they both shifted enough to be comfortable for the moment. "What's so funny?"  
  
"I had it bad for you for ages before I finally asked you out. I was talking to some guys in the Caf because they called me out for staring at your ass. They figured you'd be a really shit lay."  
  
Phil snorted. "Seriously?"  
  
"Oh, yeah. They all figured you'd be ridiculously uptight even in bed. I figured you for Jedi on the streets Sith in the sheets."  
  
"... did you tell them that?"  
  
"Yeah, why?"  
  
"Because I had a week where Star Wars stuff kept turning up in the inbox that is on my office door."  
  
Clint burst into laughter. "That was not me. I did leave you an Agent Smith action figure though."  
  
Agent Smith, who had been mysteriously modified to hold a rainbow flag instead of a gun, now had a permanent residence in Phil's penholder on his desk. "See I knew that was you, but the Star Wars stuff didn't seem your style."  
  
"What kind of Star Wars stuff?"  
  
Phil rolled his eyes. "Darth Maul toy with a double ended dildo instead of the double lightsaber. Matching color scheme and size even, just clearly a dildo on a second glance."  
  
"Ohmigawd I have to see that! You kept it right?"  
  
"Nick has it. He puts it by his office desk lamp when he's going to have a one on one with someone he wants to fuck with."  
  
"Wow. Just... wow."  
  
"The rest was just print offs with weird captions. Anyway it only went on a few days. Now I know who to blame for it though." He pinched one of Clint's nipples.  
  
Clint's noise was half protest half approval. "You love me anyway."  
  
"Yes I do." He leaned up enough to kiss Clint's jaw gently.


	15. Chapter 15

There was that weird moment, as a band, when they realized that putting on shows wasn't a struggle anymore. They didn't have to beg or pay their way into venues. They'd just call and ask and if there was space they were on the schedule, just like that.  
  
Tony kept telling them to let their agent (they have one, a bouncy young man named Peter Parker who seems to know a lot of people in spite of his age) and eventually they relented, wanting to do a few local-ish gigs to stay in practice. Testing new songs on stage was another story since they didn't want Die A Hero ending up on the internet before they were ready.  
  
Phil was considering the issue as he stepped off the elevator. He wanted to let the band have better flexibility for their song lineup and yeah not all the songs they had were on the first album but the best of it was. Which meant rewriting the rejects or maybe doing a currently popular thing and metal covering a non-metal song. That Halestorm cover of Get Lucky had certainly been well received and the Shaman's Harvest cover of Dirty Diana was surprisingly great.  
  
The door opened and he beamed at Steve. "Hey. Clint's at his real job, I'm supposed to congratulate you for both of us until he sees you at dinner tonight. Assuming we're all still going out?"  
  
Steve laughed and let him in. "Yeah, hopefully. Thanks man, you guys want a copy?"  
  
"Two if you can. I know you're giving us advances." He took off his coat and hat as he walked in. "Oh, hi Tony, Bucky."  
  
Bucky's real arm was preoccupied with a ridiculously tiny puppy on a warming pad on the table, mostly ignoring Tony, who had some kind of laser scanner device and was looking at the remains of Bucky's damaged shoulder. "Phil." Bucky nodded. "This is Ten."  
  
"Ten?" He walked over. The tiny puppy, eyes still closed, was curled into Bucky's hand and arm, drinking from a small bottle.  
  
"Names mean you keep them. They get numbers." Bucky replied peacefully. "Ten is probably a mix of teacup poodle and Min Pin."  
  
"Who does that?" Tony muttered. "Hi, Agent. Or is it Iron Fist?"  
  
"Both. Making good on fitting him for a prosthetic?"  
  
"Maybe. They didn't totally remove the arm from the socket thank everything. Leaving him with the top of his arm makes it a lot easier, but it's still going to be surgery to do some initial installations."  
  
"I don't know if I want to undergo more surgery." Bucky's eyes were still on Ten, who finished the bottle and burped, tiny front paws patting the heating pad as its tail wagged.  
  
"I get you but for the limbs I make it has to be done." Tony sat back and set the tool aside. "All done big guy."  
  
Steve had already reentered the room and held out two copies of his graphic novel. Phil took them, smiling when he saw that Steve had signed the covers for them. "Captain America. It is being released by issue actually right?"  
  
"Right, what you're holding isn't actually available for six months." Steve rubbed the back of his neck, seeming sheepish. "Ten issues total, one every two weeks for five months. First one was out yesterday; I hope it's well received."  
  
"He won't read the reviews." Bucky had pulled his shirt back on, Ten now cradled to his chest, growling and whining back as the puppy did at him.  
  
"I made sure review copies went out." Tony admitted. "I didn't get him published though that's all Steve. His pitch blew the publisher out of the water. Guess they were intrigued by the retro feel."  
  
"That and it's beautiful. Good lord Steve, the art is great." Phil was paging through it.  
  
"I did a lot of research on Brooklyn before World War II. I wanted it as accurate as I could." Steve smiled. "If it sells well they want me to put the album story into comics, if you don't mind."  
  
"You have our releases." He flipped to the last page, grinning when he saw Nick, in black leather and larger than life, telling Iron Fist and Commander Hill that Captain America's plane was found. "How did you talk him into this?"  
  
"What, Fury? He called me and asked if, and I quote, I needed a tall black double-talking federal agent motherfucker for the comic. I had just had a filler character on that page and when I sketched him in it worked perfectly."  
  
"Love the eyepatch."  
  
"So does he."  
  
"I'm still not in it." Tony pouted.  
  
Steve kissed the top of Tony's head. "Well someone has to feel up Cap in the comic."  
  
"For the record, thanks for making me look my age but... somehow not old at the same time." The back pages were concept art, including photos of the band members in pose then their character drawn in the same pose. "Has Natasha thanked you for the conservative costume?"  
  
"She told me to think of Catwoman from Adam West Batman. Besides she would break me in two if I had her boobs on display."  
  
"Clint's costume meanwhile..."  
  
"He said it's easier to be an archer without sleeves. He also said if Natasha didn't want her tits out he'd totally do it."  
  
Phil face palmed silently.  
  
"You're marrying that. In fairy wings." Tony said helpfully, packing up his laptop.  
  
"Yes. Yes I am."  
  
"Sam wants feathered wings, like a red tailed hawk. I want a tail instead." Bucky half smiled at Phil. "A classic demon tail, with the pointy end."  
  
"Because he's a punk." Steve messed up Bucky's shaggy hair affectionately.  
  
"We can probably manage that. Want some horns too?" Phil made a mental note. They were getting married on Devil's Night after all.   
  
Bucky scoffed. "Of course I want horns what do you take me for, someone who does something half assed?"  
  
"Don't make me answer that." Tony said after a beat, then squawked when Bucky reached over and proved he can in fact one hand palm someone's ass. "Someone's sassy! Good lord."  
  
Phil and Steve both laughed, Steve pushing in to save Tony from Bucky. "Get off you letch."  
  
"I don't actually mind." Tony pointed out.  
  
"What have I walked into?" Sam wanted to know, walking in still taking off his winter gear.  
  
"Chaos panic and disorder. You coming to dinner with us? We're having a Captain America Is Published celebration." Phil lifted an eyebrow at him.  
  
"Hell yeah I am."  
  
"That's everyone then." Bucky stood and returned the puppy to the playpen. The older puppies had been passed on to the rescue to be found forever homes, so he just had very young charges again. "I can get away long enough to do dinner."  
  
Steve was surprised, and then smiled shyly. "Really? I'd love to have you along Buck."  
  
"It's a good day. I'm up for it." Bucky smiled back.  
  
"Then it's an honor." Phil decided. "I'll call and alter our reservation."  


* * *

  
  
Tony ended up bringing Justin along to dinner, and Justin brought with him two copies of the first issue of Captain America, the normal cover and a less-printed sketch cover.  
  
"They pulled it for me or I wouldn't have got it." Justin told Steve. "I guess you're reviewing well, man."  
  
"It's the first issue. We'll see how many of those people stick around for all ten." Steve signed them for Justin and put them back in the slipcovers, passing them back.  
  
"First release of an artist-slash-writer we hope to see more of." Clint was reading off his phone. "Stylish, clean artwork, with particularly fantastic character portrayal. The color choices are equally striking with the first issue being shown partly in colorblind vision."  
  
"So they don't hate it." Steve tried to focus on the menu.  
  
"Will you please have a little optimism?" Maria demanded. "You are a total unknown publishing a comic that is starting an entirely new superhero standard and they like it!"  
  
"No kidding. Smile a little Steve. This time next year you'll be juggling a comic book studio and the band." Phil half smiled.  
  
"Guys, please."  
  
"Another review. 'First thing: the setup of this comic is strange. It feels very retro, like a missing piece of Golden Age comics, but almost all of the characters are band mates of the artist/author or friends. This is apparently the lead up to the metal band Subvert's next album but you'd never know if you didn't read the author's note. It stands beautifully on its own.' " Natasha was also on her phone.  
  
"Guuuuuuuys." Steve whined.  
  
"If you don't stop torturing him he's going to whine all night." Sam deadpanned. "And some of us are hungry, can we order?"  
  
"Oh, fine. You know we love you Steve." Clint grinned at him.  
  
"Yeah, I do. God help me."


	16. Chapter 16

Phil stood in front of his mirror, frowning. The spare bedroom was exercise space, and he'd gotten permission to put up his mirrors. He has never considered himself vain but they're useful training tools after all, able to check his martial arts forms and yoga practice. And it let him continue his practice of working out and writing music as he did. Movement to music.  
  
The first album was an issue of filling the space. Now it’s the issue of having too much to fill the space, having to pick and choose story points, leave enough that people can follow the plot and leave details to Steve and his drawing.  
  
He thinks he sees how it's all going. First track was called _Awake (Out of the Ice)_ with Captain America waking up in modern day, in the tender arms of an Agency that employs heroes. From there it's the Captain trying to adapt to modern day and be the patriotic figurehead, only to rebel and lay out the truth of his life, loud and proud.  
  
He's finally finished that song, tentatively titled _Raise Your Flags_ , staring at it on the mirror and getting the strange feeling he just wrote his magnum opus. It's the forth track on the album and it's a blast of light and pride and positivity, head held high. Steve's vocals of course, playing to his range with Phil's rumble as supportive harmony on the chorus, and a soft thoughtful "nothing will ever be the same again" a Capella to wrap the song and lead to the turn the album follows.  
  
Because the album has a track called Fight that includes the bitter line in the chorus "it's only called a class war if we fight back" and the final track is _Die a Hero_.  
  
Captain America, gunned down, and Iron Fist's voice rising angry and defiant. Phil's hero has a lament on the album called _Powers Go First_ that lines out his position, a 'superior' individual, the government employed long time hero, very well thought of, but of little use because his strength is dying.  
  
The hero that dies is Iron Fist, snuffing the last of his strength to save Captain America. Going human to preserve the ideal.  
  
He's still thoughtfully looking at the mirror when Clint comes in, snow in his hair still melting because he forgot the purple jester cap Phil bought him. "Hey, babe. You look like you worked out hard."  
  
"Did. It's done though." Phil offered a half smile in apology of his needing a shower.  
  
Clint joined him, eyes flicking over the lyrics on the mirror. "Holy shit."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Steve will love this. Are you happy with it?"  
  
"Yeah. I think I am." He sighed happily under the temple kiss Clint gave him. "Come warm up in the shower with me."  
  
"Yes sir."

* * *

  
  
He sent the lyrics outline of the album to Peter and Tony and wasn't surprised when Tony called back ten minutes later demanding they move forward on it, the Peter called right after to tell him that Tony is a fucking idiot sometimes and to move on it at his own pace, the first album is doing fine, they have time.  
  
Like Phil would have rushed anything anyway. The band has their lives and jobs, even with Steve having politely bowed out of his graphics design job to occasionally do it on contract around the band and the comics (he wants to do everyone's hero origin stories, Phil had provided his own already) and everyone else trying to let trusted employees have the reins. They find time of course a few days a week, getting together in their now-permanent practice space to jam and to start putting music to the new songs.  
  
Steve's not used to being vocals let alone co-lead but adapted, but he still made sure everyone else sang. Phil was on every track, Natasha and Maria weighing in as needed. They also found time to jam in local venues, playing covers and video game music, the latter just because it was fun to watch the audience react to the Final Fantasy X opening music or Devil May Cry tracks. Phone recordings got online immediately of course as did a recording of them playing Nymphetamine Girl with Natasha and Phil singing which started the hilarious rumor online that they were totally banging.  
  
"I mean it's flattering that anyone thinks I could pull off sleeping with you." Phil told Natasha, earning himself a gentle slap to the head from Clint. "Bruce isn't mad is he?"  
  
"No. He's mildly amused but he knows whose baking I'm eating." Natasha smiled a bit.  
  
"Did you guys wait for me to order?" Tony wanted to know, breezing across the Chinese restaurant and sitting on Steve's lap. "Hey handsome. Your comic is loved."  
  
"Hello to you too." Steve grinned. "We just have drinks."  
  
"Phil! I've been talking to your scary ex-boss and while the Dungeon is not used to being a wedding location, let alone on Halloween Eve, they're totally willing to rent it by the hour so you guys have the venue providing you do it before midnight."  
  
"Fantastic." Phil beamed at him.  
  
"Did you have a professional tailor call us all to schedule us for superhero fitting?" Maria asked.  
  
"Well yeah you can't go to war without wearing a uniform." Tony pointed out. "You guys want to be superheroed out for the next tour right?"  
  
"Yeah but that's a while yet. Easily over a year." Phil pointed out. "We aren't ready to start recording and I want to give the first album more time to sell."  
  
"And we have a wedding to finish planning." Clint leaned and nuzzled Phil, smiling when Phil nosed back. "But for now the priority is food. Let's order."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, lots of shorter chapters. Sorry guys.


	17. Chapter 17

Phil blinked at the individual in his doorway and felt the awkwardness get deep enough to drown him. "You must be Barney?"  
  
"... Yeah. You Phil?"  
  
"Yes. Come in. Clint's at work." Phil stood aside, watching Barney Barton walk into the apartment and stare around, a duffel bag over his shoulder.  
  
"Thought you guys were rock stars."  
  
"He still owns half a gun shop and teaches marksmanship and gun safety." Phil replied, already texting Clint as he followed Barney in, to wit, 'your brother is here should I hide our good silver?'  
  
"Nice digs." He dropped the bag, hands shoved in his coat pockets, looking at Phil.  
  
"Look, take the damn coat off and let me get you some coffee." Phil decided, watching as Barney semi-reluctantly obeyed. "I hope you understand my surprise. He said he was going to invite you to the wedding, but..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I'm a thief and a criminal and down and out." Barney looked bored.  
  
"I wasn't going to go there." Phil admitted, going into the kitchen as his phone buzzed and having to smile because it was Clint wanting to know if they even have good silver (they don't). "Still showing up at your future brother in law the feeb's place and self-describing as such is pretty ballsy man."  
  
"You already knew. What's the harm? Understand I never entirely got over my brother preferring dick. Just finally decided it wasn't really my business."  
  
"Good choice." Phil slid a mug of coffee over.  
  
"You seem alright at least. Watched your interviews and some live concert stuff."  
  
"Are you here to belatedly give me a shovel talk or are you here for help?"  
  
Barney huffed and rubbed the back of his neck, looking at Phil in a way that made it semi-obvious he was related to Clint. Shared mannerisms. "Mostly the first. My bro's had some shitty taste in men and women man; he's stuck his neck out and got hurt."  
  
"Your brother pursued me, and took great pleasure in corrupting me. I wasn't always heavily tattooed and into metal music."  
  
Barney snorted around his coffee. "Yeah sounds about right. Clint can be a force of nature when he wants. Probably why he's done so well."  
  
"That and he kept his sharpshooting thing on the right side of the thin blue line." Phil was droll. "But we've had some very good luck."  
  
"I could use some of that."  
  
"You any good with dogs? Friend of a friend fosters for rescues and no-kill shelters, they always need people."  
  
Barney blinked. "No free rides huh."  
  
"Not a single fucking one."  
  
"I'll think about it. Need to talk to Clint about stuff."  
  
"Fair enough."

* * *

  
  
By the time Clint got home Phil and Barney had at least worked out a truce. Barney had been recruited into helping prep for dinner when Clint came in, taking off his raincoat. "You asshole, why didn't you tell me you were off parole?"  
  
"Good behavior. Yeah man I know that's not usual for me but I'm sick of the bullshit." He set the knife aside and moved forward to clap hands with Clint. "You look good."  
  
"I feel good. Life is pretty excellent." He stepped around and kissed the back of Phil's neck. "Hey baby."  
  
"Hey. Chicken peanut satay in a bit."  
  
"Awesome. You two getting along?"  
  
"Well apparently he's stolen more cars than I have." Barney lifted an eyebrow.  
  
"I was undercover." Phil pointed out.  
  
"You jacked a goddamn Ferrari!"  
  
"Three. Undercover." He was smiling a touch though, taking over at the cutting board.  
  
"Your fiancé is a smug pretentious prick." Barney informed Clint.  
  
"Yes I am." Phil was cheerful. "Shoo, both of you, talk brother shit in the living room and let me housewife in peace."  
  
Clint was grinning but dragged Barney out of the kitchen to do just that.  
  
"Are you really getting married in fairy wings?" Barney wanted to know.  
  
"Yes. Do you want a set?"  
  
"Of course I fucking do. Also what the hell were you thinking joining a metal band when you have a history of ear problems?"  
  
He rolled his eyes. "I wear earplugs on stage. Good to see you too."  
  
"Yeah yeah." He tugged Clint in. "I worry about you. Even if you started working for the cops."  
  
"Whatever." He hugged back. "You going to try to be straight now?"  
  
"I dunno man. I don't have a lot of options and your fiancé doesn't believe in free rides."  
  
"Neither do I. But, I might be able to help you get a job. We have some friends in interesting places, some of which might even have use of your skills in larceny."  
  
"... See that shit makes me wonder."  
  
Clint snorted. "Tony Stark has ex-cons on his security because who better to thief proof his shit than thieves. Dunno if he's hiring but he likes us."  
  
"I have a lot of catching up to do."  
  
"Stick around. You'll figure it out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I ever finish this thing off I might do another story in the same rapid update format, but a porn studio verse.


	18. Chapter 18

"Looks like everyone RSVP’d." Fury was looking at his tablet. "Decent crowd really."  
  
"Family and friends." Phil was unpacking the first of the fairy wings. "Holy shit, Nick." He pulled out a set that was purple leather and highlights of gold silk.   
  
"Are mine in there?"  
  
"Think so. Thank god they can fold down a bit or flying with these would be a nightmare." He pulled out his set, amber-gold leather and purple silk lowlights. They weren't simple things either, somewhere between a butterfly and bat, webbed but with upper and lower sections. "The band is all coming of course and our plus ones. I invited Hammer too."  
  
"And Sasza. Who yes, RSVP’d. She was very polite about it but seriously Cheese, what the fuck?"  
  
Phil had his and Clint's wings set aside on the table and pulled out a set of massive swallowtail butterfly wings. The material seemed to be bright pink and ivory white silk, with sequins and fake jewels sewn in and rainbow shoulder straps. He burst into laughter in spite of himself. "Here you are, fairy princess."  
  
"Hell yes." Nick set down the tablet and took the wings, shrugging into them. They rode on backpack style straps with another strap lacing cross the chest to secure them.   
  
"It's definitely you." Phil said around the gleeful giggling, snapping a photo on his phone.  
  
"I'm beautiful and you know it."  
  
Given the source, Phil could only grin. "I invited Sasza because it could be hilarious. Also we can bury that hatchet, maybe."  
  
"Well her Facebook remarked on her being invited to a gay metal fairy wedding. She seems nonplussed."  
  
"I would be honestly shocked if she knows what that means." Phil dug into the box and found Natasha's wings (small, batty, black with green lace) and Bruce's (also small, but feathery, green with black lace). "It's actually a small wedding party, I mean, not even two dozen."  
  
"Considering there's next to none of the normal wedding bullshit..."  
  
"Steve, seriously." That was the last set out of this box and they were blue with red and white stars. " 'Murica. And yeah no shit why do we need a set of dishes? Why do weddings even have dishes?" He rummaged, and came out with a coiled black and silver leather demon tail and a set of horns before he collapsed the box.  
  
Nick smirked a touch. "Small wedding party, which is good because you're blowing a significant budget getting those people to the French quarter. The Dungeon wants to know if you have a cake planned."  
  
"Do they know someone for food?"  
  
"They do. Someone there seems tickled by the whole thing actually, enough to offer to arrange some things."  
  
"Make it so. You know us, we aren't picky but this crowd can eat. A lot."  
  
"Catering. I'll see if they can bring in some local fare. Right now you have the Dungeon from eight to eleven in the evening because they want time to clean up before they actually open at midnight."  
  
"That's more than enough time for our ceremony and a reception. Hotel?"  
  
"Canal Street. Short walk which is a fucking good thing, there's basically no parking. I have us all there from the afternoon of the 29th to the morning of the first."  
  
"You're amazing."  
  
"Damn right I am."  


* * *

  
  
"... 'Murica." Clint deadpanned, looking at Steve in the wings. Which was neatly pushed over the top by the fact that Steve was in his prototype Captain America costume.  
  
"I am the most patriotic gay fairy." Steve struck a pose.  
  
"Talked Tony out of leather huh?" Phil studied Steve's outfit.  
  
"All of this was doable in World War II. This is what he wore in his time. Adapting to the modern day does not mean totally forgetting where you came from." Steve shrugged, which made the star spangled wings flap. "That and you know what I'm not doing? Passing out on stage from heat stress."  
  
"Very good point. You look fantastic. Also, completely ridiculous. Why'd you shave your beard?"  
  
Another shrug. "Gas masks. Captain America would have been clean shaven. Tony still doesn't know what to think."  
  
"Besides keeping you busy drawing the classiest most luxurious superhero?"  
  
"Oh god I just imagined Donald Trump as a superhero. I need brain bleach." Clint moaned then was derailed because Bucky all but threw a kitten at him. "Gah!"  
  
"You're welcome." Bucky had the tail buckled to his pants and the horns nestled into his hair, considering himself in a mirror by Steve's drawing desk.  
  
"Iron Man? He's actually setting the character up as interesting. Don't get me wrong he's trying to write himself as a debauched libertarian asshole but I'm not going to stop him." Steve took his wings off carefully.  
  
"Doesn't he know the point of a superhero fantasy is to be different than you are?" Clint asked, the kitten now on one of his shoulders.  
  
"That's a really nice polish you're wearing, Mr. Kettle." Phil told him and got his shoulder punched for his trouble.  
  
"He knows. We've been talking about the potential legal problems involved with having an entire cast of a comic based on real people. Especially since the comic is selling and I've been asked to expand on the universe. Between that and us recording soon I'm going to be busy as hell."  
  
"But happy right?" Bucky lifted an eyebrow in Steve's direction, looking very natural in his demonic enhancements.  
  
"Everything is awesome."   
  
"On that I think we all agree." Phil smiled.  
  
"Did you really invite Sassy Cow to the wedding?"  
  
"Yes and I think she's kenned to the nickname. She asked for lime green and white piebald wings with and I do quote, all the lace in the state on them."  
  
"Piebald." Sam repeated from the kitchen.  
  
"Holstein cow." Clint supplied happily.  
  
"Wow. She might have a sense of humor like a real human. I was convinced she was some kind of advanced real doll."  
  
"We could ask Hammer, he could tell you."  
  
"That would require him being able to tell the difference." Clint reflected.  
  
"Damn." Steve deadpanned.  
  
"You people are mean today. I like it, keep it up." Bucky grinned.


	19. Chapter 19

How and why is this Phil's life?  
  
"Stark, when we made a deal I was not aware you'd be showing up at the crack ass of dawn to bawl about how you're tragically in love with a straight guy." Phil is frankly exhausted. The entire band had been up to two AM in the recording studio. They're in the same hotel as last time and somehow Clint had managed to sleep through Tony's arrival and subsequent freaking out. Phil's envious.   
  
"No. Just. Look you're the best source of logical advice I've got and yes I am aware of how sad that is. Pepper said she won't deal with me about this anymore." Tony buried his hands in his hair. "And I'm not in love with him I just..."  
  
"You just showed up at my hotel room at six in the morning to complain about how apparently Justin Hammer is going to come to the wedding as a steampunk fop in working mechanical wings and platform heels because he can apparently walk in them in defiance of his straightness..."  
  
"He's a huge fan of Rocky Horror Picture Show. He's dressed as Doctor Frankenfurter before, he can wear hooker heels no problem."  
  
"Are you listening to a word I say? You're dating Steve and madly in love with Justin. Does either of them know that?"  
  
Tony blinked owlishly at him. It was clear he hadn't slept in a very long time and he smelled like welding and ozone. Phil had already realized that he honestly had no idea what Tony's actual job was besides owning a former weapons current green tech company. "Uh. Yeah. They know."  
  
"Then why are you here?" Phil saw Clint roll on the hotel bed, burying his face in a pillow then barely opening one eye to stare at them balefully.  
  
"I still like Steve a lot you know? And he just kind of pats me on the back and smiles at me like I'm a stupid romantic fool."  
  
"You kind of are. Justin is straight right?"  
  
"Yeah. He's told me repeatedly he has no interest in dick then he fucking puts on makeup and heels and it isn't fucking fair!" Tony sat on the hotel room couch and buried his face in his hands.  
  
"So he's a little genderqueer but still het." Phil shrugged widely. "He's secure as hell in what he is and we should all aspire to that. He knows what he likes and he likes you, he just doesn't want to fuck you." Tony pouted so Phil stepped in and ruffled a hand through his hair, not surprised when Tony sagged in and leaned on Phil, hiding his face against his side. "You need a keeper."  
  
"Got a few. Got Steve and Pepper."  
  
"Just not Justin." Phil finished. "Poor baby. It'll pass."  
  
"It's been years." He looked up at Phil. "Think I can trick him into a Vegas wedding while drunk?"  
  
He tweaked one of his ears. "No, you jackass. Leave the pretty straightboy be."  
  
"Either drag him to bed with you or throw him out so we can sleep!" Clint raged, a pillow now held to cover his head.  
  
Tony ended up crashed on the couch wrapped in a blanket like a weird genius burrito. Phil texted Steve as such and went back to bed, tucking himself under Clint's chin and dozing off immediately.

* * *

  
  
"I think it's sweet. I can't be mad honestly; he's crushing on someone unreachable you know?" Steve said, sitting in his recording booth, talking through the mic to the rest of them. "It's like crushing on a movie star. Silly but not of consequence. He's not mad about me wanting to be plowed by Hugh Jackman, I'm not mad about him wanting to jump on Justin."  
  
"That is very mature." Phil decided.  
  
"Besides as much as I like Tony I'm not sure how serious we actually are."  
  
"I can tell you with authority that Justin is indeed very fond of pussy." Maria offered then snickered when the rest of the band protested her statement in dismay. "But I can see where he'd be a false positive on a gaydar. He's flamboyant."  
  
"We probably should at least try to get some recording done today." Natasha reflected.  
  
"We should." Phil agreed. "Though I have to say I am now very curious about what Justin's wearing to the wedding."  
  
"A lady never reveals such things early." Clint replied, laughing when Natasha and Maria sassed at him in protest of such broad brush statements. "What did we get done yesterday?"  
  
Phil went through the previous day's work. "Not a lot in final cut which is ... annoying. A lot of it's right but I don't really like it anyway."  
  
"I sounded like shit on Raise Your Flags. Sorry." Steve sighed.   
  
"These things take time. Base and lead guitar are handled on that though. Let's start there, see if we can make more progress."  


* * *

  
  
Recording the second album was different from the first. Most of the songs on their first album had already been written and practiced, just in need of polish. For Die a Hero, everything was new and some things were adjusted as they went.  
  
They were also paying for the studio and hotel themselves for the most part (though their label picked up some of it). Phil didn't feel bad for the long recording time though. It was amazing hearing it come together. Hearing Steve finally find his own singing voice, a tenor that worked quite well with Phil's rumbling baritone, was satisfying.   
  
Steve was busying himself with comics as well, having written out proposals for Iron Fist, Black Widow, and Hawkeye. Hill and Fury appeared as minor but key characters in all three, as the characters were all working for the same Agency when Captain America returned. He also wrote out a proposal for Iron Man. It was a large, daunting scope for one artist/author, but Steve was reluctant to share the project.  
  
"My art was a huge selling point for the Cap comic." He told the band during a break in recording. "Which is flattering but that means it has to be my art."  
  
"Then do the line art and hire in colorists." Clint suggested. "That's pretty common in comics right? I'm sure the people publishing you can recommend someone."  
  
"That's not a bad idea, and honestly? You look tired." Natasha frowned at Steve. "You're stretching yourself too far."  
  
".. You’re probably right. I'll look into it." He sighed. "Bucky and Sam keep telling me I need more sleep."  
  
"They're right." Phil said mildly. "We're taking this weekend off from the studio. Everyone should get some rest."  
  
"Yes dad."  
  
"If you keep that up I'm telling Tony you have a kink." He cautioned then laughed when Steve punched his shoulder.  
  
"Who says I don't?"  
  
"Phil does make a fantastic daddy." Clint snickered.  
  
"None of us needed to know that." Maria sighed.  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"You better be."


	20. Chapter 20

"You should let your beard grow out."

 

Phil paused in stropping his razor, looking curiously at Clint. "Really?"

 

"Yeah." He stepped into the bathroom and nosed Phil's scratchy cheek. "You look good with a beard. Can't pull off a mustache though."

 

"You've never seen me with a beard."

 

"I looked through your photo albums."

 

"Nosy." He grabbed Clint's ass with his free hand then folded up the razor. "Fine. It has a lot of grey in it now though."

 

"My silver fox." Clint leaned into him and hummed.

 

"You're in a good mood."

 

"The band's well off, we're getting married in a few months, we're most of the way through recording a second album. My brother's managed to stay out of the clink for almost six months now. You've turned into some kind of badass stepford husband. What's to hate?"

 

He cackled. "You're only calling me that because you have bizarre standards."

 

"You cook and clean babe. The last three days I went to work I came back to dinner." Clint had his face in Phil's neck and a proprietary hand on his ass.

 

"I like the domesticity. It's nice." Phil leaned into him. "And you're right. Life is good."

 

Sales of their first album had fallen off to nearly nothing but they'd made enough they all felt secure in their eventual retirement. The label was asking about the new album but it seemed more curious than insistent. Phil and Steve were kicking around the concept of letting Raise Your Flags be an early release song but they weren't sure if they wanted to fall into the trap of singles when they could just give early copies to satellite radio and so on.

 

Steve had caved and gotten support for his comic projects, so now he was writing and pencils, with a professional inker and a colorist taking it from there. Which was good because Bucky had been threatening to tie Steve to the bed to make him sleep. At this point, he'd accidently hobbied himself into a new career and had been forced to admit that the readership of Captain America had loved it and it had been a surprise hit, especially for a new hero in a new franchise.

 

Steve had also negotiated to make sure that everyone had rights to their characters. Enough that if their character showed up they got a tiny percentage of the profit anyway. Nick had apparently gotten just enough to schedule himself a trip to Vegas to cause trouble again. He'd come back with exponentially more money than he'd left with, covered in glitter and wearing a hat that may or may not have been stolen from Cirque du Soliel.

 

Phil really did love his friends sometimes. He'd been invited but had politely declined because he's a bit old to break himself on a stripper's pole now.

 

Which had prompted Clint to install a stripper's pole in their workout space.

 

Life really was pretty amazing.

 

"You know if someone had told me a few years ago I'd be a heavily tattooed metal singer I would have demanded they get drug tested." Phil shivered as Clint bit his neck.

 

"I would have believed it personally. Just because I would want to see you tattooed. That hardass feeb suit hiding tattoos like a dirty secret." He licked part of the phoenix tat on Phil's neck.

 

"I don't hide a damn thing anymore. Except for shows."

 

"I know. And I love it."

 

* * *

 

Bucky finally managed to get to a point of no fosters. Which drove the various rescues he worked with nuts because he was apparently one of their best for various baby animals (he'd briefly had three miniature goats being bottle-fed, which had been hilarious but they'd been moved to somewhere with better city ordinances), but they understood he couldn't work with animals if he was going to be in surgery recovery.

 

In the end it was all a lot lower profile than Phil figured. Yeah Bucky had a lot of stitches, but there were no obvious sockets or anything else.

 

"The problem with obvious external shit is the human body either fights infections around it constantly as it tries to reject it or it tries to grow over it." Tony explained, looking at Bucky's shoulder after the stitches removed. "So it's better for installed gear to be under the skin. The fact that he still has his shoulder, and by extension the top few inches of his arm, works out well."

 

"I can tell stuff's in there but it's not bothering me." Bucky moved his arm around.

 

"A lot of metal and a few magnets." Tony admitted. "The end of your bone's been capped in metal. There's also the hookups for nerve feedback."

 

"He'll be able to feel through it?" Clint demanded.

 

"Not exactly. It's more a positioning thing. He'll have some sense of where it is and have some control over it. How fine the motor control is depends on you." The last bit was directed at Bucky as Tony opened up a case, getting out a skeletal robot arm.

 

"I don't know what I expected." Bucky seemed amused though.

 

"This isn't the final arm. This is your therapy trainer so it isn't up for real heavy work. It's to get you used to having weight on that side of your body." Tony explained, showing Bucky the range of the elbow joint and hand. "You have this one until your physical therapist says you can bump to the real one, which will be heavier but you'll be able to put weight on it. Tank top off."

 

"Define weight." Phil requested.

 

"Well he's not doing one armed pullups on that side. Pushups? Probably." Tony said dryly as Bucky took his tank top off. "Brace yourself big guy, first hookup is weird."

 

Apparently the reason for the metal and magnets was to hold the arm to Bucky, but also let it line up correctly with ease. The sleeve that pulled up over his arm also had magnets, connecting along his arm and shoulder and Bucky actually jumped, eyes widening and sitting frozen as Tony stepped around him, doing up a securing strap that crossed Bucky's chest to buckle on his other side.

 

"You okay?" Steve's eyebrows were stuck in a concerned position.

 

"My phantom limb ache just stopped." Bucky stared at the arm; slowly curling the prosthetic's fingers with effort.

 

"And that is one of many reasons why I am a genius thank you very much." Tony grinned. "It is on a battery, in the upper arm but you can change them out while it's in use. It'll go 'numb' without battery though."

 

"I'll never be able to pay you back for all this."

 

"You're a tax write off, duh, just like the rest of my disabled veteran work. Just make sure you go to physical therapy or it's all for nothing." Tony set a battery charger and stack of batteries on the table before he closed up the case. "Now your final arm can be realistic but I think the mechanical ones are more badass. Think about what your preferences are. This one is water resistant enough for washing dishes, but don't shower in it."

 

"No swimming huh?"

 

"Final one can, this one can't." He produced a product manual. "Here you go."

 

Bucky stared at it, prosthetic moving but he ended up taking it in his real hand. "You're a total asshole. But a good one."

 

Tony beamed.


	21. Chapter 21

Encore 21  
  
"Your plane has a stripper pole." Phil is both entirely not surprised, and bemused.  
  
"Well yeah. If you owned an airplane wouldn't it have a stripper pole?" Tony wanted to know.  
  
Tony had made his wedding gift the use of one of his private jet to get most of the wedding party to New Orleans. It was a mixed crew, everyone in comfortable clothes, a combination of family, friends from government agencies and friends from the music scene.  
  
"Mine totally would." Clint was already on the stripper pole, holding on with his legs and hanging upside down.  
  
"A plane is a waste of money. At least you can scuba dive off a boat." Justin said mildly, his proper seating pose somewhat undermined by the fact that he was reading Ready Player One and wearing a Captain America t-shirt because apparently those were suddenly a thing. Steve was blushing at random intervals like a semaphore.  
  
"I'd say you're full of surprises, but rich guy with an expensive hobby in California is not surprising."  
  
"The sad part is I spend more time than anyone on an airplane since my bro on the low ditched the eternal drought of Commiefornia for the eternal fog bank of Seattle." Justin didn't look up from his book.  
  
"He totally loves me." Tony told Phil in a stage whisper.  
  
"Yes I do, you freak. Now go magic this plane off the ground."  
  
Tony rolled his eyes and bounced off toward the cockpit to ask about takeoff, since everyone was aboard.  
  
"I don't get you two." Clint said in the silence that followed, then was sputtering and laughing because his shirt had rode up and Nick had taken that as an invitation to tickle. "What the fuck Fury?"  
  
"Either use the pole or get off it Barton."  
  
"This is going a weird place." John muttered.  
  
"Going? Gone for years." Bucky was playing with some kind of baffling finger toy Tony had given him that was like Simon Says on acid, demanding metal fingers here and flesh fingers there and making noise at Bucky that reminded Phil of an angry Sim crossed with a pokemon. "Your powers of observation are simply fantastic."  
  
"Everyone on this plane's an asshole."  
  
"Don't demean my boyfriend like that." Natasha replied. Bruce was already buried in a tablet full of science and startled, looking up and making a puzzled sound before Natasha's hand in his hair made him decide it was okay to keep reading.  
  
"This is the plane's owner speaking, get into something resembling a seat, we're preparing for takeoff." Tony's voice announced, and people adjusted as needed, the bizarre conversations and the chatter of Bucky's physical therapy toy continuing as the plane started to taxi.  


* * *

  
  
"Are weddings supposed to be like this?" Clint wanted to know as they unpacked; because the sooner they did the sooner they could go into the French Quarter. Jasper was apparently already gone, making noises about beignets.  
  
"As opposed to what?" Phil asked, hanging up their tuxedos and related gear. They had found a place that had outfitted them in the suggested Victorian Goth style, so their colors matched their wings and also looked like something out of steampunk romance.  
  
"I dunno. We watch Say Yes to the Dress together, you tell me." Clint blinked.  
  
"Well, we definitely aren't traditional." Phil conceded. "But we never have been baby. You like it right?"  
  
"I love it." Clint hugged on him. "Wedding eve jitters, I guess."  
  
"Beignets and chickaree coffee might fix that. Let's go find some."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little short chapter before the wedding! Sorry I'm pretty swamped at work at the moment.


	22. Chapter 22

Phil knew coming to New Orleans, specifically just off Bourbon Street in the French Quarter, for the wedding was going to result in a lot of weirdness. Because it wasn't Halloween yet but two days out there were women wearing body paint heels and little else, massive stilt costumes, and all the other usual denizens. A gold body painted angel with fangs, sitting on a fire hydrant and rising to attack poses for photos. Strippers in barely enough clothes for legality standing in the doorways of their clubs, catcalling. A cannabis candy truck (Tony got everyone a sucker). Frozen daiquiri slushy stores. Tourists. Beads.  
  
They've been here a handful of hours. So how are they all in beads, drinking out of novelty plastic cups and in a strip club? Honestly he lost the thread after an hour. It isn't worth keeping track. He's probably the only one not surprised when Nick's "ancient black ass" gets on a pole dance stage and proceeds to have some kind of duel with the stripper on her own pole, still in his jeans. He makes enough in singles to buy Maria and Natasha lap dances of course.  
  
At some point they had left there and stores were still open and Clint got him a hand tooled leather plague doctor mask he saw Phil admiring. They all ate at a restaurant John immediately labeled a tourist trap before he wolfed down thirty bucks in local fare.  
  
And they got recognized. Phil did mostly, walking around in a Subvert t-shirt with his tattoos not covered up. So he got to talk to some fans and resisted being goaded onto a karaoke stage, trying to shove Clint up instead only to have Clint drag him up. As revenge he chose Lady Gaga's song Judas and sang it in his register, which with the song's standard instrumentals sounded ridiculous enough they all decided after they had to do an actual metal cover of it.  
  
Eventually the group all found each other again and straggled back to Canal Street. Phil intended to shower and sleep but ended up watching trash TV with Clint for a while before he found a marathon of How It’s Made and they passed out to the soothing narration of tire manufacture.

* * *

  
  
"Isn't there a rule about not seeing the bride before the wedding?" Clint asked peevishly from the bathroom.  
  
"We saw each other get fitted. Are you in white lace without telling me?" Phil was almost intrigued, adjusting his purple tie and examining the fit of his black vest and gold shirt, glad the ruffled sleeves were damn near understated.  
  
"I shall leave my underwear to your imagination. Just wondering why that's a thing anyway."  
  
"Patriarchy?"  
  
Clint burst into laughter, coming out of the bathroom, dressed to match but the colors reversed to a purple shirt and gold tie. "God damn you look good."  
  
"Look who's talking." Phil smiled, tender and fond. "Love the eyeliner."  
  
"And that's why I put it on. Come on; let's get our wings on before we're fashionably late."  
  
Given the wing straps, they had decided to forgo jackets because honestly no state of formality could rescue how ridiculous this was. They helped each other get the wings on and adjusted before staring at each other and bursting into laughter, winding down leaning on each other.  
  
The elevator ride was shared with a group of tourists, who had to stare at the wings because even on Bourbon Street, two middle aged men in formal wear and fairy wings were worthy of note. Then they walked out into the lobby and the majority of the people there were in fairy wings.  
  
"I like the lights, Sasza." Phil decided, walking up and offering a hand to shake.  
  
She took it after a moment. "Thanks. Elwire you know? Great stuff, I like how it backlights some of the lace. Congratulations by the way even if I have no idea why I'm here." Her wings were pink and ivory and golden, My Little Pony Pegasus style with elwire lighting which meant she cast pink and gold lighting in a glowy aura.  
  
"Our fight was getting derivative. You're here to bury the hatchet."  
  
She considered. "In the ground or a body?"  
  
"Good answer." Phil grinned. "Who are we waiting on?" He looked around, smiling a bit at the group.  
  
"Justin." Tony actually looked disturbingly fey, complete with pointy ears and slit eye contacts. His wings were sprouting from under the jacket of the dark red suit he was wearing, spiky and savage, everything about him sharp enough to cut. As Phil watched he shifted a shoulder and the wings flexed and arched in response.  
  
"How much did that cost?"  
  
"What? Oh I built them. Had some help from Weta Workshop though."  
  
"Is there a movie filming or something?" A tourist wanted to know.  
  
"Not hardly. There is a wedding." Justin's voice said grandly, walking to join the group. True to promise he was wearing platform heels (though not too high ones), striding easily. He was in copper tones and warm browns and green, little gears in the details, wearing goggles instead of his glasses and a matching top hat. His wings were currently folded up on his back, emerging from a compact clockwork backpack that was emitting what had to be dry ice smoke in dribbles as faux steam.  
  
"Well. Holy shit." Clint decided.  
  
"It isn't nice to upstage the grooms, you assholes." Barney pointed out. Barney had dark grey gargoyle wings and a matching tail.  
  
"Turn them on turn them on turn them on." Tony was whining, almost bouncing on his toes.  
  
"Barney has a point and I hadn't considered it. Sorry." Justin gave Phil and Clint an apologetic frown. "I was told wings and Victorian Goth, and I do so love steampunk."  
  
"Oh turn them on before Tony has an aneurism." Clint replied tartly. "Besides, none of us can ever upstage how beautiful Natasha is."  
  
"Very smooth." Natasha appraised, in a green and grey gown that perfectly went with her wings. In deference to the locale, the skirt ended just below her knees. She also had a matching miniature top hat. Bruce was next to her, dressed to match but still managing to look disheveled.  
  
Justin considered then nodded, manipulating a controller strapped to his wrist that was connected to the backpack. Dragonfly wings unfolded in a hiss of fog, doing so in twitchy stages with the audible tickticktick of a clock. The tourists applauded.  
  
"I want some. Can you make me some? But butterfly wings? For my concerts." Sasza was gaping.  
  
Justin gave her a look as the wings finished their rigid origami clockwork opening, all four flexing then fluttering. "No. Not for sale. No commissions. Now, I believe we have a wedding to go to?"  
  
Phil smiled, reaching over and lacing his hand with Clint's, leaning their foreheads together. "We do. Ready baby?"  
  
"I was ready last year. Let's make it official."  
  
The walk to the Dungeon got a lot of attention, which everyone involved had expected to some degree. A bunch of people in formal wear and custom wings did leave an impression, even on Bourbon Street on Devil's Night. Phil and Clint ignored the minor commotion, walking with their hands laced together. At one point a mounted officer rode over and it was Nick, in grey slacks and a matching vest over a pale green shirt that went fantastically with his fairy princess wings, who explained they were a wedding party.  
  
"Vank you vor lettink me come to zis fiasco." John told Phil as they walked. He was a Jagermonster from Girl Genius and had laughed at Phil's surprise because of course he likes a story with action death and mad scientists. His personal Jager had normal skin color but pointy ears, twisty horns, claws and dental prosthetics to affect the pointy teeth. And, of course, a pimp hat. Hats were very important.  
  
"I won't lie. The costume and accent got you reinvited." Phil was laughing.  
  
John was affronted. "Zis ees how all the Jaeger talk yes? Bezides, after all zee reconstruction vork Hy haf had done vor injuries Hy might as vell be Jager."  
  
Nick crossed over, clapped a hand on John's shoulder, and leaned in. "John. If you keep up the bad movie accent I may actually kill you."  
  
"You vill try!"  
  
"You cannot be that into this."  
  
"Ken if Hy vants to be!"  
  
"How did he become the craziest part of this?" Steve wanted to know, still the most patriotic gay fairy.  
  
"Rabid determination." Jasper deadpanned. He was in black slacks, a black and green leather double breasted vest and a green shirt. He had small dragon wings and he'd done body makeup on his scalp to affect faint scales.  
  
"I love our life." Clint said happily, then they were all but going single file down the path to reach the Dungeon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I argued with myself about John's costume before saying fuck it, I'll let him be the mad scientist experiment he is.
> 
> Girl Genius: http://www.girlgeniusonline.com/comic.php
> 
> Jagers: http://girlgenius.wikia.com/wiki/J%C3%A4germonster


	23. Chapter 23

Phil decided upon walking in that the location was perfect. He had been a bit skeptical, as there were barely any photos of the place available, then they were let in and Clint squeezed his hand and bounced in excitement.  
  
"It's perfect." Clint told him happily.  
  
And for the purpose of two metal band members getting married in fairy wings, it really was.  
  
New Orleans was a very popular wedding location, but the Dungeon? Not so much. Still the staff had adapted. It was decorated for Halloween but there were gothic hanging manners with skeletons and "Til Death Do Us Part" in gothic script, and gravestone decorations with Phil and Clint's names sharing it, and other bizarre touches that were holiday and venue appropriate. There was an altar, extravagantly decorated.  
  
Instead of one cake there was an assortment of mini cakes. Not cupcakes but individual cakes, maybe four inches in diameter and layered and decorated in buttercream, all identical except for two with the Subvert eagle clutching a bow.  
  
"I improvised for design ideas." Fury told them. They had no argument.  
  
The place did seem a little empty with only the wedding party and the staff, but everyone was talking and happy, being passed drinks. Then there was the sound of drums swelling through the room and they all looked up as the doors burst open and a small crowd came in, setting down drums, dancers swirling. Phil stood there with a shot of tequila and a bemused smile, watching vibrantly robed priests organize the crowd, one of which was swathed in an albino boa that seemed unimpressed with it all.  
  
"You arranged for us to have a voodoo wedding?" Phil asked Nick as the priestess drew intricate patterns on the floor with flour and cornmeal.  
  
Nick shrugged. "You're welcome."  
  
"I'm not sure about the snake." Clint admitted.  
  
"It ees a physeekal manivestaton ov La Grande Zombi." John provided, giving one of the dancers a toothy grin when they looked at him in surprise.  
  
"I'm somehow not shocked you know that."   
  
The drumming quieted and the priestess turned to them all, lifting a hand. "We are grown and gathered and bound, and the binding is well." The drumming, still quiet, was pacing her words and Phil felt Clint sway slightly to it, one drummer sympathizing to others. "We are fixed at the hip and the hand; and the head and the heel. We are planted beneath the land, forever to wheel as the earth and the sun are wound on a golden reel; as the ripening grasses stand, and pale and fall."  
  
"Wow." Clint said softly. Phil squeezed his hand.  
  
"Let HE who wishes to be joined approach me now."   
  
Phil released Clint's hand and stepped forward, careful not to mar the symbols so carefully placed on the floor.  
  
"Let HE who wishes to be joined approach me now."  
  
Clint stepped up even with Phil.  
  
"Should any of the Spirits here gathered have objections to this union, now is the time to make it known." When the room stayed quiet except for the roll of the drums, she continued, looking to Phil. "Repeat after me,"  
  
"I bring you the warmth of my heart." Phil repeated, looking at Clint, standing still as one of the other priestesses moves around them, taking small snips of hair and fingernails.  
  
Voodoo.  
  
She nodded and looked to Clint, "Repeat after me,"  
  
"I bring you the light of my love." Clint was blushing, worrying his lower lip.  
  
"As you have stated your desire to be united, one with the other, take now these rings and place them upon each other’s finger," she produced a ring box, which Nick had asked for from Phil and Clint. They had bought the set together months ago. "As pledge and testimony to your love and commitment to each other."  
  
They were simple tungsten bands, with small diamonds set smooth. They picked up the rings and slid them onto each other’s fingers, lacing their hands after, Clint twitching as the albino boa was wrapped around both their shoulders. The head ended up on Phil's side and it gave him a very unimpressed look, tongue flicking out to lick his cheek.  
  
"We ask La Grande Zombi, the grand ancestral god of our voodoo, to bless this couple and share his healing. May the warmth and light of your union be blessed. May you know the best of fortune, and your life together be one of joy and prosperity. Do you swear to keep sacred your vows?"  
  
"We do." Phil and Clint said nearly at the same time.  
  
"Then kiss to seal your blessings."  
  
They leaned into each other and did, Phil breaking it to laugh as the snake slid under one of his fairy wing straps and wrapped around it.  
  
"I pronounce you Phillip and Clint Coulson-Barton. Leap over the broom and continue your lives together."  
  
Once the snake was coaxed free from them they turned and leaped over a broom, landing in one of the designs on the floor. After they were given the broom, which was dark stained and etched with their names, and their wedding party applauded.  
  
From there it was food and cake, and drinks. There weren’t really any gifts, but Phil had said everyone attending was gift enough anyway.  
  
"This is the weirdest wedding I have ever been to." Sasza said, standing and eating her mini cake.  
  
"Zat surprizes you?" John wanted to know.  
  
"Not really. I mean you guys are freaks, I wasn't exactly expecting a big fat Greek wedding."  
  
"I could have pulled white lace off." Clint said.  
  
"You would have pulled it on. I would have pulled it off." Phil didn't miss a beat. There was a photographer and they had been assured they would get an album of photos, though they had been asked to put as few as possible online as the Dungeon generally had a no photos policy. He was fine with that.  
  
"Still perverts." Sasza gave them a look. "But okay ones. Not that I'm putting that on Facebook."  
  
Clint laughed.

 

* * *

 

 **EPILOGUE**

  
  
"We sold out." Steve told Phil, checking over his new bass. He'd managed to get one painted like Captain America's shield.  
  
"First show of the new album." Phil's outfit was mostly silk, which he'd argued initially because he felt damn near naked and he sweats on stage. He'd caved though because honestly? It's generously cut and he looks good in it.   
  
Die a Hero had been released, and as he had figured, Raise Your Flags was the immediate hit. The fact that it was a scream of pride, confident and defiant and metal, sold well to a lot of crowds. And yeah, it was a boldly pro-gay narrative, though it never just flat out said it. The surprise, to Phil, was that Powers Go First was also getting a lot of play. He'd sort of come to think of the song as a near dirge, a character struggling to separate their sense of self from what makes them special as that special thing fades, and the emptiness of being treated as gifted to being treated as all but normal.  
  
Apparently the snowflakes of Gen Y and the Millennials appreciated it. An entire generation treated as gifted in school only to hit the real world like moths hitting flame.  
  
"It's time." Maria walked over, in combat boots and a black and silver uniform.  
  
Phil nodded once, and led the way. Right before he hit the stage his stride changed and he led onto the stage with a handspring, chaining it with a series of flips before he landed neatly in front of his mic and straightened up, grinning at the cheering crowd as the stage setup around his mic fogged and flared lights so ghostly fire and power danced around him.  
  
Tony Stark, apparently a stage affects genius.  
  
"Hello, Subversives." He purred into the mic as everyone else came out, their stations lighting up as they picked up instruments. "Who here needs a hero?"  
  
The crowd screamed. He let himself bask, for just a second, then counted off to start the first song.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap folks!
> 
> I have, admittedly, never been to a voodoo wedding. What you just read was pieced together from some online research and I stole the vows from a website (sorry). 
> 
> I hope you liked it! I'm leaving this verse here, I think, but since the rapid update format was liked, I might start a new one with the aforementioned porn verse.


End file.
